


Limits to Love

by Evilsnowswan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 59,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilsnowswan/pseuds/Evilsnowswan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Season 4A:<br/>Almost sixteen years have passed since Belle banished Rumplestiltskin at the town line. Rumple, as Mr. Gold, has been living in New York for the past years and is still trying to find a way back to Belle, when an unexpected visitor appears on his doorstep one evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Visitor

###  Chapter 1: A Visitor 

“Sir, is this your daughter?” The police officer nodded towards the girl standing next to him, who he held by the arm. She was looking at the floor.

Gold stared at the police officer blankly. He and the girl were standing on the lowest step; half in shadow. The door lamp’s light didn’t quite reach there.

“This young lady claims to be your daughter?” the officer tried again, now with a note of concern in his voice. “She gave this address.”

Gold cleared his throat to respond, tightening his grip on the door. His leg had been acting up. He took a tentative step forward.  
“Officer, I do not…”

The girl raised her head. Her features were briefly lit up and Gold did a double take. She had a heart-shaped face and stunningly blue eyes. Eyes that he would, even after almost 16 years, recognize everywhere. The girl fixed him with her gaze for a moment. There was defiance there, maybe mingled with some curiosity. The sensation of shock that must have clearly been displayed on his own face was not mirrored on hers. She merely looked him up and down once; then blew a strand of blonde hair out of her face and looked back at her canvas shoes. 

“Sir?” The officer shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

Gold hastily rearranged his face to what he hoped was a stern, mildly concerned, fatherly look.  
“What did she do?” he asked; his voice level.

“We picked her up on Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street, Sir. She had climbed one of the lions and was reading a book.” The officer stated.

“Reading a book.” Gold echoed. He looked at the officer in disbelief. Since when was reading a crime? - In this world or any other. 

“When we approached her, she kicked my partner in the face and ran.”

“Oh.” Said Gold. He looked at the girl again. She was petite. The yellow, shabby backpack she was carrying on her back seemed taller than she was. It was hard to imagine her attacking a police officer. “Err, sorry about that.” 

“We don’t have a curfew for minors, Sir, but in the future it would be safer for your daughter to complete her schoolwork at home after nightfall.” The officer winked and nudged the girl.

“Of course.” Said Gold.

Without so much as looking at either of them, the girl hurried up the two remaining steps and ducked inside.

“Teenagers.” The officer shrugged. There was an empathetic smile on his round face now.

Gold gave a non-committal grunt. The knuckles on his right hand had turned white. If he was to let go of the door, he wasn’t sure he would be able to stand.

“Goodnight, Sir.” Said the officer, tapped his cap and turned to leave. 

Gold kept standing in the doorframe. He looked after the cop; then watched as the police car drove past and sped off into the night. After a few more moments staring into the darkness, he finally closed the door and limped through the narrow hallway towards the living room. He had to lean on the walls for support as his cane was still resting beside his armchair.

The girl was sitting on the floor, her back against the sofa and her legs outstretched. She had kicked off her shoes and had scattered what seemed to be half her backpack’s contents on the floor next to her. When Gold entered the room, she looked up from the book she was reading.  
“I thought you ran or had a heart-attack or something.”  
She blew a violently pink bubblegum-bubble, which popped audibly and returned her gaze to her book.

Gold did not know how to respond or what to do. He fidgeted with the golden ring on his right hand nervously. It astounded him how this girl was completely at ease in his home, which hardly deserved the name, and even more so in his presence. There was no hint of fear or insecurity in her body language or voice. No awkward, shy glances or nervous little movements. Her calm however, made him a bundle of nerves. Plus, he hated bubblegum.

“Um, excuse me, but who do you think I am?” he asked.

She looked up again, marking her spot in the book with the index finger of her right hand.  
“You are Rumplestilskin.” she said matter-of-factly.

“True.” he said with an attempt at bravado “… and you are?”

“Ivy.” She said without looking up this time, her eyes rapidly moving over the page.

What an insolent little thing, he thought. With those eyes there was no doubt who her mother was, but was she really his? And how did she know who he was; know his real name, know what he looked like? How had she found him here in New York? Why was she in New York? Where was her mother? His thoughts made Gold slightly dizzy. His brow was starting to sweat.

“How old are you?” he asked, still playing with his ring.

“Fifteen.” Ivy looked at him again “Oh, and before you ask, my mother is Belle French.” She paused, looking at his face curiously. He did not say anything. “Okay, maybe you should sit down. You’re turning green” She chuckled.

Not really sure what he was doing or why he was doing it, Gold crossed the small room and sat down in his armchair. What was he supposed to do now? What was he going to do with the child? Where was her mother; where was … -he forced himself to think the name – Belle? Why had the child come to him? How had she come here?

“How did you…?” he began, but Ivy interjected quickly “Took the bus. “

“And your mother…?”

“Not on the bus.” Ivy sassed.

“I see” said Gold, who was now wringing his hands in his lap and shooting sideward glances at Ivy on the floor to his right. He cleared his throat.

“Say, I am Rumplestilskin and that I believe what you are telling me, but what would you have done if I hadn’t?”

Ivy marked her page and put the book down, then began rummaging in her backpack “If you had not believed me,” she said “maybe this would have persuaded you.”

To Gold’s utter horror, she pulled out the dagger.


	2. A Fine Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after Season 4A:  
> Almost sixteen years have passed since Belle banished Rumplestiltskin at the town line. Rumple, as Mr. Gold, has been living in New York for the past years and is still trying to find a way back to Belle, when an unexpected visitor appears on his doorstep one evening.

### Chapter 2: A Fine Line 

“How did you get that?!” he shouted angrily, leaping to his feet and making the girl jump. Ivy looked up at him, startled.

“I-I took it. Your name is on it. It’s y-yours, right? I thought, if I had it … I d-didn’t mean to …” she stammered, drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them; still holding onto the dagger.

“Do you know what that is?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“A – knife?” Ivy tried.

A knife. A knife?! Heaven’s, the child was clueless. Gold took a few more steadying breaths. Unclenching his fists, he stood there, glowering down at both girl and dagger.

He was breathing heavily. The dagger, the wretched dagger. It had cost him everything. It had cost him his true love, his Belle – and apparently it had cost him his daughter too. When Belle had sent him over the town line almost 16 years ago, he was crushed. He eventually made it to New York and found Baelfire’s old apartment. Living in a world without magic took some getting used to. He got sad and he got angry, but whatever he tried, he could not find the way back. The line never reappeared. He would go back and try and locate the town again and again, hoping against hope, that somehow Belle would be there to let him back in. He went and waited for her every birthday, every anniversary, but she never came. Eventually, he stopped hoping and waiting. He stopped returning. He had not been to the spot in a few years. Last time he had wanted to travel realms to find his family, it had taken him decades and a curse and a whole lot of plotting and scheming – and that was with his powers still accessible, with all his magic at hand. Without it and without any means of magical transport, he was stuck for good this time. It took him some time to accept that. However, as the years went by, he came to realize that maybe villains did not get to choose their own happy endings after all. Maybe he had wanted too much, maybe he had been greedy. He had not seen any of it then, but Belle had. Belle, his beautiful and kind Belle, she deserved better than an old cowardly cripple. He sighed at the image of her face from his memory. The beautiful brown hair framing her sweet face, her soft lips (which she did bite so characteristically), her flushed cheeks (when she got excited telling a story) and her eyes, such a deep shade of blue, that they seemed to hold all seven seas and their secrets and dazzling beauty all at once.

Gold sighed. Then he noticed that just such a pair of shockingly blue eyes was still transfixed on his face. He cleared his throat and sat back down, turning to Ivy in his seat.

“Since it is indeed my knife, will you give it back to me?” He asked the girl as calmly as he could manage.

Ivy hesitated, but then held out the dagger to him. “What is it for?” she asked, sitting up straighter and letting go of her knees, relaxing again.

Gold shook his head as he took it. “It is not something to fool around with.” 

Ivy rolled her eyes at him. “Uh-oh, beware the dangerous and creepy-looking, but otherwise utterly useless, knife.” She mocked. 

“I don’t see how it is useless” said Gold, bemused. “Care to enlighten me?”

“It won’t cut bread, that’s for sure.” replied the girl “And it’s no use either, if you fancy a pb&j sandwich. Have you ever tried spreading jam on toast with that thing?!”

Aghast Gold started flipping the dagger from side to side to see if he could find any trace of food on the blade. There was none. Slightly bewildered, he looked back at his daughter.  
“Can’t say that I have” He said.

“Don’t bother. You’ll just make a mess.” Ivy made a face.

“Noted” He pondered for a moment, then said “You took this from your mother”, while still rotating the dagger in his hand.

Ivy nodded.

“She does not know that you took it or that you are here” Gold continued.

“No.” 

“So, in other words, you stole from your mother and ran away without her knowledge” 

“Maybe” Ivy said defiantly, her bubblegum popping again as if functioning as punctuation. The sound made Gold want to crawl up the shabby yellowed tapestry on his living room walls. 

“Don’t do that.” He said automatically.

“Don’t do what exactly?” Ivy shot back, crossing her arms.

“All of the above, but the gum, especially the gum.” Gold shuddered “The rest cannot be helped for now, anyway, can it?”

“Jeez.” Ivy pulled a silver wrapper from her pocket and wrapped the gum in it. She then got up and padded to the adjacent little kitchenette to find the trash can.

Gold watched her silently. She had inherited both Belle’s delicate frame and good looks. Ivy was the spitting image of her mother, except for her hair, which was shoulder length and honey-colored. She even mimicked her mother’s walk, but it didn’t come across quite as elegant, which was probably due to her choice in apparel. Apparently, Ivy had not inherited Belle’s taste in fashion. Her faded jeans had ripped knees, her black t-shirt was a little too big for her and she had only rolled up one sleeve of her lighter denim jacket. She wore no jewelry, as far as Gold could tell, only two black elastics around her right wrist. When Ivy returned to her spot in front of the sofa and sat back down on the rug cross-legged, he noticed that her black socks had holes as well. In fact, they were more hole than they were fabric. He shook his head, smirking.

“What?” asked Ivy defensively. She followed her father’s line of sight and noticed the holes in her socks. “I forgot the socks, alright?!” she mumbled, blushing slightly. Gold chuckled softly. 

“How is Belle?” he heard himself ask next, before he could stop himself. He wasn’t sure whether he really wanted to hear an answer or not.  


Ivy shrugged. “Fine, I guess. She works a lot.”

“The library?” 

“Flower shop” Ivy said “She and grandpa don’t always get along, though.”

Gold nodded. “She always liked flowers, yes, but she used to love the books more” he said, almost as if it was a question and not a statement.

“Oh, she reads sometimes, when she can make time. She’s really busy mostly.” Ivy answered the implied question without much enthusiasm.

“Flower shop, huh?” Gold muttered.

“Yup” Ivy said, rocking back and forth a little.

They sat in silence for a while. Ivy resumed her reading and Gold just sat there and watched her absent-mindedly. His thoughts were so preoccupied with Belle – Belle at the flower shop with her father, Belle not reading as much as she used to. Was she alright? Happy? – that he forgot for a moment that he had other questions that needed to be answered still. 

He put the dagger down on the little coffee table, grabbed his cane and walked over to the sink to get a glass of water. He asked Ivy, if she would like anything, but the girl merely shook her head and continued reading.

“So” he began a little awkwardly after he had sat back down “how did you find me? Did your mother …?” He did not finish the sentence. It just hovered in the air, more question marks than words.

Ivy dog-eared the page she was on (a practice Belle would surely frown upon, wouldn’t she?) and answered “I used a locator spell on an old tie of yours.” as if it was obvious. “I followed it here, but then, uh, delayed on ringing the doorbell.” 

“You know how to make that potion?” Gold asked astounded.

“It’s not that hard” Ivy said, nonchalant, “other potions are way harder” 

Gold could not believe his ears. It was plainly visible that Ivy was taking pride in her potion-making skills and that she was very pleased with the fact that she had stunned him into silence with her casual tone and airiness. Gold screwed up his face. This did not make sense to him. “Did your mother teach you …?”

Ivy laughed. “Pff, Mom and making potions. Yeah, right.” 

There was an undertone in her voice that Gold couldn’t quite place just yet. Was it sarcasm? Disappointment? Resentment? “Your mother can brew a decent potion, if she so chooses” he said despite himself. For some reason he felt rather protective of Belle’s attempts at potion-making and spell-casting.

“The hypocrite!” Ivy exclaimed, eyes wide. “Telling me not to meddle in things, hiding the books…” she huffed “but I found them, found all of them, ha!” her eyes flashed and she crossed her arms again.

Gold could only guess what kind of temper was hiding behind that angelic face. If Ivy was anything like her mother, who was sweet and kind most of the time, but could really be very stubborn and reckless occasionally, he was sure; he did not really want to know. He had a feeling that he was losing grip on where the conversation was going. He was not sure where this was headed and if his contributions to it helped at all or made matters worse.

“Uhm, books?” he asked helplessly.

“Yeah, all the books on potions and spells. Every book on magic, actually. She hid them.” Ivy was outraged.

“Why – why would she do that? Hide them from you?” 

“She hates magic” Ivy spat and there was no mistaking the contempt in her voice this time. “That’s why you broke up too – magic - isn’t it?”

“One might say that. Yes, in a way, I think that is true.” Gold answered slowly. It didn’t even begin to cover what had happened between them, but it wasn’t a lie either. “However, she does not hate magic. Maybe she’s a little wary …” he offered.

“Yeah, sure.” Ivy scoffed “that’s why she totally freaked on me when she found the fire spell.” She said in a high-pitched voice “because she’s a wee bit wary.” She put great emphasis on the last three words “Yeah, that explains it all perfectly. What a relief” She huffed out some air and glared up at her father.

Gold was rather uncomfortable now. He was under the alarming impression of sitting on a mine field. Plus, he did not quite like the sound of what he was hearing. What fire spell? And why in the name of the Gods, would Ivy want to cast such a thing. Could she cast such a thing? This did not sound good.

“A fire spell. What kind?” He asked, a businesslike ring to his voice.

“What?” Ivy spluttered “Um, the one that makes a fireball dance in your palm.” She answered uncertainly, taken a little aback.

“And the fire would be? - Dragon? Serpent? Phoenix? Or would you rather conjure a blue flame, which is not actually rooted in the fire element, but in water and ice, and, which is therefore not a true flame?” he looked at the girl questioningly “And what emotion would you tie the conjuring to?”

Ivy gaped at him. “I, um, I don’t know?” she said, confused. “I just” she stammered “it looked cool.” She closed meekly.

“Conjuring up element magic is highly dangerous, if you are not one hundred percent sure of and confident in what you are doing.” Gold said with finality in his voice. “It is not something you mess around with.”

“Okay, okay.” Ivy groaned. “I didn’t actually do anything! I just read about it.” She gestured towards the book in her lap. “I wasn’t going to try anything, honest. And then Mom found the spell book under my pillow…” 

“The book you were not supposed to have, that your mother had put away safely, supposedly.” Gold interjected.

“Yeah, that one. One of them, anyway” Ivy whispered “She went ballistic.”  


The pieces slowly fell into place for Gold. “So you decided to grab that appalling thing” he pointed at her backpack “throw that in it” he indicated the mess on the living room floor “cast a locator spell, lifted my, um, knife and ran off to New York, am I correct?”

“Something like that” she said timidly “and I also wanted to, you know, meet you” she smiled shyly. “She never really talks about you, you know.” She played with a strand of her hair “She won’t lie when I ask, but she’s not really elaborate either. I was curious…”

“…and angry” Gold added.

“Okay, maybe I was angry too. I just figured… why not?” Ivy shrugged and bit her lower lip.

Oh, he could tell her a few reasons alright, why running from home with only a backpack and a magical compass wasn’t such a grand idea. Not that he did not like meeting her or that he did not enjoy her rather sudden company, because –surprisingly enough - he did, but he was thinking of all the things that could have gone wrong on the trip to New York. And he was thinking of Belle, who was surely worried sick within the town lines of Storybrooke right now. He had no means of contacting her, letting her know that Ivy was safe. He could not return her to her mother, because there was no way, he was going to find the town without magic aid.

He leaped out of his seat again. The town, the town line! If Ivy had crossed it and its spell was still intact, that would mean that she could not return either. He crouched down (ignoring the sharp pain in his leg) and looked at his daughter imploringly.

“Ivy, did your mother ever mention an enchantment, an enchantment of the town? Much like a cloaking-spell or magical veil?”

Ivy looked at him, slightly alarmed by his tone and proximity. “No, I don’t think so. She just said not to leave town.”

“Were those her exact words, Ivy? What did she say?” Gold pressed.

“She told me not to cross town borders.” Ivy replied and Gold drew a sharp breath. This wasn’t good at all. “Why?”

“When you did cross them” Gold asked carefully “Could you still see the town behind you?”

“I-I don’t know. It was dark.” Ivy stammered “Why? What’s w-wrong?” She looked at him wide-eyed. “What spell?”

“After I had – left” Gold began, choosing his words very cautiously “your mother, the town, I mean. I did not know about you.” He looked at her apologetically “I wanted to return many a time. Except, I could not. There was a spell on the town then, which would prevent people from outside its town lines to enter it – and once you were outside, there was no way to get back in. The spell has been effective for many years. That’s why I never came… and I am not sure…”

It took a moment for his words to register with Ivy. He could watch her face grow more concerned until there was nothing but right out fear strewn across it. “B-but that means if it still there… I … I can’t…” her breath caught. Then her lower lip began to tremble.

Gold, who was still on the floor next to her, wanted to touch her shoulders by impulse, but stopped shy of actually touching her, his hands stupidly suspended in midair for a few seconds, before he let them fall to his sides again. “We don’t know if it has been lifted” he tried “maybe it is gone.” He attempted to smile reassuringly.

Too late. Tears were already rolling down Ivy’s cheeks. When she began to sob, Gold still sat motionless and utterly useless, frozen in place. Had he still had his powers, he would have conjured a pillow or maybe a stuffed animal or something. Anything to make it stop. The crying had to stop. He wasn’t good with the crying. He wasn’t good with the words either – or the hugs. Belle had been big on the hugs, he remembered. Did that mean, he was supposed to hug the child? He uncomfortably shifted in his position and with the least amount of actual contact possible, tried to pat Ivy on the back.

“W-w-hat are y-you doing?” the girl hiccupped, then made a sound that sounded like half a sob and half a giggle. 

“Me?” Gold withdrew hastily, his hands making little nervous gestures “Nothing.”

Ivy smiled a watery smile at him and swiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket. She took a deep breath “W-what now then?” she breathed.

“We’ll figure that one out.” He smiled at her “Tomorrow – for I suggest we both get some sleep first.” He straightened up, putting his weight on his cane. Ivy scrambled to her feet as well, looking around the small room shyly now, waiting. 

“Right” said Gold bracingly. “You can have the bed, if you like. I don’t mind the couch. Do you have a toothbrush?”


	3. Gone Girl

###  Chapter 3: Gone Girl 

She was running, running as fast as she could. The mud splashed her legs and the heavy rain had her completely wet, but it did not bother her at all. She just kept moving, focused on the task and straining her ears for sound –other than the pelting rain and rolling thunder overhead. The animals of the forest were quiet, having sought shelter from the violent thunderstorm. The ground felt soft and warm under her feet, breathing the scent of earth and pine trees.

She stopped for a moment, her breath visible in the cool night air. Looking around at the formation of trees around her, she realized she had been running in circles. Again. That little shit knew how to play her – but then again, she had taught the girl well. Maybe a little too well. With a low growl, Ruby turned on her heels and darted off in the direction she had come from, her paws leaving marks on the ground. She had to go back to where she had picked up the trail first and try again.

When she passed the little lake with the bench, she noticed a figure sitting on the grass, close to the water. Skidding to a halt, sending dirt and little pebbles flying, Ruby stopped again. She put her nose in the wind, then gave a displeased growl and trotted to the figure’s side.

Belle did not react immediately. Seemingly lost in thought, she stared at the lake’s surface and the rain disturbing its calm. Ruby nudged her gently – at which she gave a start and turned her head. “Anything?” she asked, her voice flat and quiet. With a small whimper Ruby put her ears back. Belle turned away again, staring out onto the lake. Lightning struck not too far away and thunder boomed again. The electricity in the air made Ruby’s fur stand on end. She nudged Belle once more, trying to get her to move. This wasn’t safe. When Belle didn’t react, Ruby lay down beside her, trying to curl around her friend to shield her from the rain and cold as best as she could. Belle gave a small shiver. The two of them sat in silence, while the rain kept pouring down and the sky was lit up repeatedly, followed by ground shaking crashes of thunder. 

Her head on the damp grass, Ruby glanced up at Belle’s face. It seemed oddly void of emotion. She looked strained and weary. “Remember, we used to play here all the time?” Belle breathed, without taking her eyes off the lake. Ruby made a small noise to signal that she had heard and remembered. She remembered chasing Ivy around and playing never-ending rounds of hide and seek. She remembered listening to Belle reading stories, while she lay next to the picnic blanket, belly in the sun, eyes half closed, the little pup falling asleep nuzzled in her fur. 

Lightning struck again, splitting a tree on the other side of the lake in half. Ruby leapt to her feet and tucked on Belle’s right sleeve. “Ruby, …” Belle said, trying to free her arm from her grip. Ruby kept tucking, small growls escaping from her jaws, until Belle gave in and stood up, swaying a little. Ruby let go of her jacket and impatiently nudged and pushed her, so she would walk. They needed to go. She had to get Belle somewhere warm and dry and safe. With slow, heavy steps, Belle walked towards the path, which would lead back to the town center. Ruby followed, noticing that the heel of Belle’s left shoe was broken. She shook her head, sending drops of water flying. Through the mud and underwood in heels. Oh, Belle. She took a long stride and was beside her friend in no time, walking to heel and pressing into Belle’s side to support her weight. 

When they reached the town, the lamps of Granny’s were still lit. Despite the lateness of the hour, the diner was still open. Ruby knew a lot of them were not sleeping tonight. Everyone was out looking for Belle’s girl or trying to help some other way. Henry was patrolling the town lines in the sheriff car, David and Neal were out on foot, Mary-Margaret had the school and library open, in case anyone needed to talk or research or brainstorm. Belle and Ruby entered the diner, adding fresh mud to the dried trail on the floor. Apparently, Granny had given up on cleaning everybody’s mess. 

“Ew, wet dog smell!” Leroy, exclaimed, disgusted. Belle sat down at the counter gingerly, her limbs stiff from the cold and wet. Ruby trotted towards the back, only stopping next to the booth Leroy was sitting in to shake to her heart’s content. 

“Ruby!” Granny shouted from behind the counter and pointed towards the back, one hand on her hip. Ruby made yapping sounds that sounded much more like human laughter and wagged her tail. 

“That is so … unsanitary, sister!” the dwarf complained loudly, shooting glances after her, as she went. 

Belle did not even smile at the scene.

“What can I get you, dear?” Granny asked Belle, her face turning from stern to compassionate. “Something to eat maybe? We have wonderful specials this week!” 

Belle smiled weakly shaking her head. 

“A hot drink then? You must be frozen stiff, out in that horrible weather all night! Come on, have a cup of tea, at least. The herbs are real fresh and very good quality.”

Belle shrugged, water dripping from her clothes onto the floor. She was a little cold after all, maybe. 

“Nice hot tea coming right up then!” Granny said briskly, busying herself.

Belle shrugged out of her drenched jacket and placed it on the stool next to her. A cold shiver ran down her spine - in spite of the warmth in the diner. Her pullover, blouse and pants were soaked as well and she could not feel her feet at all. Belle sighed. She did not turn when the diner door opened and someone stepped inside. The door swung shut again and heels clacked, then Regina was standing beside her, hair wet and coat dripping. “Belle” she said “Any luck yet?” 

Belle shook her head dejectedly. 

“We are going to find her.” Regina reassured her. “I just collected the missing ingredients for the locator spell potion. I really don’t know why I was low on everything in the first place.” She frowned. “The belladonna seeds will need to soak overnight to get the essence, but the potion will be ready in the morning. We will only need something of Ivy’s then. It will lead us straight to her.” 

Belle closed her eyes, took a deep breath and nodded. 

Regina placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it briefly, before turning to Granny, who had reappeared behind the counter with a giant orange mug that she placed in front of Belle. Its contents steamed and smelled of herbs and spices.

“Here you go, dear.” Granny said warmly. “Regina, good, I’ve got everything ready and packed.” She continued upon noticing the mayor standing there, though her voice dropped some degrees in temperature immediately upon addressing her. She handed over several takeout bags and boxes, packed neatly in plastic bags. “Don’t shake or tilt them too much, or everything will spill.” Granny cautioned. 

Regina looked for a moment like she was going to retort, but she seemed to think better of it and just nodded and took the bags. 

“If anyone needs anything else, have Emma call me again from the station.” Granny said. 

“I’ll tell her.” Regina answered, then turned to leave, laden with food.

“The search parties will come together at the station in a few minutes for some food and refreshments.” Granny said, returning her attention to Belle, who was taking tentative sips of her tea. “Maybe one of them brings good news?” 

“Maybe” said Belle, but she did not believe it. They had been looking for Ivy since yesterday afternoon. They should have found her by now. The town wasn’t that big.

“Have something to eat, dear.” Granny tried again. “You must be hungry. I am getting a burger and fries ready for Ruby. No trouble making it two.”

“I am fine, thank you.” Belle answered. She did not feel like eating.

Granny put her hands on her hips, but did not say anything more. 

Ruby, back in her human form and wearing clean clothes, reentered the diner from the back giving Leroy a radiant smile, and plopped down on the stool to Belle’s left. “Hey” She said, placing an arm around Belle’s shoulders “You really should get out of those clothes, they are wet.”

“I’m fine, really.”

“Bull, Belle, and you know it. You need to change and eat something and get some sleep!” said Ruby “Have you slept at all?” 

Belle shook her head. “I can’t” she said in a small voice.

Ruby rubbed her friend's back with a concerned look on her face. “Tell you what – You go home now and try to get some rest.” Belle gave every sign of wanting to protest, but Ruby went on “You get some rest and I will go back out after I’ve had something to eat and look for the kid some more. If I hear anything from the others or anything happens, I promise to go and get you immediately.”

“But…” Belle began. How could she just go home and do nothing?! Her baby girl was out there somewhere all on her own! Ruby gave her a stern look. “Okay, alright.” Belle faltered “but only for a few hours.” 

“Wait a sec” Ruby hopped off the stool and went to the back. She returned holding one of her jackets, which she helped Belle into, before walking back up to Leroy, who was watching her approach, suspiciously. “Make sure she gets home safe, okay?” Ruby said under her breath, so Belle, who was now thanking Granny for the tea, would not hear her.

“Sure thing” said Leroy and got up.

 

When they approached the flower shop, Belle’s heart sank even lower. She dreaded entering the apartment above it. The apartment, that she and Ivy and her dad shared, which, with her daughter gone, felt eerily empty and cold.

Leroy waited until she had unlocked the shop’s door and had turned the lights on inside. She smiled at him through the shop window and walked towards the back, where the stairs to the apartment were. Slowly, she began to climb them, her heart getting heavier with each step.

When she opened the apartment’s front door, her father greeted her in the hallway. They both did not say anything. She looked at him, hopeful, but had her hopes shattered immediately, when he shook his head. Belle bit her lip and without speaking, crossed the hall, to get to the little circular staircase at the other end, which would lead her to everyone’s bedrooms on the upper floor.

She kicked off her shoes and dropped the jacket on the floor as soon as she had reached the upstairs landing. Instead of turning left to her own bedroom, she turned right to her daughter’s room. The door was ajar and the lights were off. 

Belle turned the lights on and hovered in the doorframe for a moment. The room was empty, a strange chill emanating from it. She crossed the room, carefully sidestepping the various piles of books and clothes and the other stuff strewn across the floor, to close the little window - only to find it already closed. Outside lightning struck and thunder boomed again. 

She turned and looked at her daughter’s bed. It was not made. The blanket thrown back and tangled, the two pillows askew and dented. Looking at it - the bedding with the little pink and yellow hearts on it - choked her. She bit back tears and sat down, pulling her knees up to her chest, trying to catch her breath.

Grabbing one of the pillows, she noticed that Ivy had left behind her beloved Mr. Sobek - a stuffed crocodile that she used to drag around with her everywhere when she was little. Mr. Sobek was missing an eye and a leg, but Ivy insisted on him remaining that way, no matter how often Belle had suggested fixing him up for her. Belle let go of the pillow and reached for the plushy, hugging it to her face. Her daughter’s smell clung to it. She held Mr. Sobek tight in her arms, silent tears dripping from her eyes. Rocking the little animal in her arms, she cried even harder. What if something had happened to her baby girl? It would be entirely her fault. Ivy was probably scared and alone right now. What if she was hurt? Belle kicked out at the nearest book pile, sending the books flying. The books, the stupid books! Belle stared down at the crocodile. She had to find Ivy and make it alright. Determined, she got up and carried Mr. Sobek to her own bedroom with her. She had to do something and she had to do it now!

Closing the apartment’s door silently, so not to alert Maurice, Belle slid into the pair of shoes that she had been carrying. Mr. Sobek tucked safely under her left arm, she crossed the dark shop and walked back out into the cool night air. It had almost stopped raining. Lightning still flashed in the sky occasionally. 

Belle walked the main road until she reached her destination. The pawn shop lay silent and dark. She fumbled with the keys in her jacket pocket. It took her three attempts to unlock the door, because her hands were shaking too much for her to hold the key steady. When the lock clicked, Belle took a deep breath, closed her eyes and pushed the door open. When she opened her eyes again, the dark shop greeted her with a familiar view and a faint moldy smell. It was dusty, cobwebs everywhere. Nobody had been in here for almost 16 years. Whether it was out of fear or respect, or because she alone had the keys, Belle did not know. With trembling legs, she entered and switched the light on, then closed the door behind her. 

Taking Mr. Sobek out from under her jacket, she looked at the stuffed animal and said “Alright, Mr. Sobek, let’s do this!” As if waiting for an answer from the plush creature she paused, then spoke again: “You and I, we are doing this.”

Her jaw set and the crocodile clutched tightly in her left hand, Belle opened drawers and cabinets; searched the shelves and boxes for what she needed hurryingly. Surprisingly, it did not take her as long as she had anticipated. It seemed she had the shop memorized still. Blowing the layer of dust off the counter, she placed the small bottles and boxes on it, the glass vail and finally the book. Placing Mr. Sobek on the counter to her right, she flipped through the book until she had found the right page again. With concentration on her face, she added the ingredients to the vail, carefully following the book’s instructions. At last, she added the liquid essence of belladonna and stirred. The potion turned crystal clear immediately. 

Belle looked down at the vail with her potion, her heart beating fast. She then grabbed the crocodile. “Ready?” she asked, clutching it to her chest one more time, before she splashed a few drops of her concoction on the animal’s head. Mr. Sobek’s outlines glowed blueish for a moment, then he soared into the air and floated towards the shop’s door. Belle zipped up her jacket and went after it.

She followed the stuffed animal down the main road. It kept taking up speed, so she almost had to jog to keep up. If she let too much distance get between her and her daughter’s toy, the spell would cease to work. They passed more buildings, getting further away from the center. They were not headed for the forest, which was in the opposite direction, nor for the beach. Belle’s heart raced. She had a really bad feeling about this. Something inside her did not want to keep going, but she forced herself forward, eyes fixed on Mr. Sobek.

Now positively running to keep up, Belle followed without paying much attention to her surroundings. The two of them turned a corner and went further down the now very straight tree-lined road. However, when Belle made out the town sign on the left, she stopped dead. No, oh no, this could not be! 

“No, please, no!” Belle called after the crocodile. Yet, it sped right ahead, towards the town line. Belle took a few more steps after it, slowly, fresh tears stinging her eyes. The little animal wobbled in midair for a bit, when it crossed to the other side - much like an airplane in turbulence. After that it hovered on the spot for a few seconds longer - then fell to the floor, limp. 

Belle ran the remaining distance to the town line, stopping only a few inches to it. She stared at the plushy, lying motionless on the damp pavement, her eyes wide. She was shaking slightly. She could still see it, but not touch it or reach for it. It was gone. Ivy was gone. They were all gone. Gone again.

“Ivy …” she whispered. Tears streamed down her face freely now, her vison getting blurrier and blurrier. She stood, hugging herself around the middle, for a few seconds longer, staring ahead. Finally her legs buckled under her and she fell to the floor, sobbing and shaking violently. Her baby girl was gone. Gone to never return and Belle could not bear it. Clutching at her heart, she gasped for air, the agony flowing through her veins threatening to split her in half; right down the middle.


	4. Hot Chocolate and Pretzel Croissants

### Chapter 4: Hot Chocolate and Pretzel Croissants

Gold looked up from his copy of the New York Times when the door to the bedroom creaked open. Ivy stepped out into the living room, yawning and stretching. Her hair was messy and tangled, her eyes only half open. She was wearing the black shirt from the day before and a pair of boxer shorts. Barefoot, she padded over to the kitchenette and opened the fridge. Gold watched her surveying the contents for a moment and then taking out the milk, shaking it and taking a sip right from the carton – only to spit it out into the sink a second later.

“You don’t have anything to eat.” Ivy informed him turning, milk carton still in hand.

“A good morning to you too” Gold answered, putting the paper down on the table.

“Morning” Ivy said “You know, this is gross” She shook the milk carton again pointedly.

Right, Gold thought, children needed to eat. He wasn’t much of a breakfast guy himself, usually just had a cup of tea. Belle had always insisted on how breakfast was the most important meal of the day, though, trying to get him to eat pieces of toast, some scrambled eggs and pancakes or porridge. Gold frowned. He had neither of these things at home. There was not even a piece of fruit in the house. 

“How about … we go get breakfast somewhere else?” Gold suggested nervously.

“Okay” Ivy’s face lit up. “I’ll just be a minute.” She rushed to the bedroom and a second later vanished in the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. 

Gold sighed. He hated New York in the morning. He hated the morning rush hour, the pace of the city and its people– or maybe he just hated the city in general. He wasn’t sure. He got up, grabbed his cane and walked to the bedroom. If he had to leave the house, he’d better change into a clean suit. 

The room was an absolute mess. Ivy had emptied the rest of her backpack on the floor - clothes and other clutter everywhere. The only thing neat was a book pile next to the unmade bed. Gold shook his head. The girl definitely was not taking after her mother here. The mess made him cringe. Trying to cross to his wardrobe without touching anything he stumbled around the room, only to trip over something and bump his head against the wardrobe door. Cussing under his breath he looked down to see what had tripped him. Ivy’s black canvas shoes lay there innocently. He picked them up and carried them to the shoe rack in the hallway. Not only were they dirty, they also had various holes in them and the laces did not match. On the left one, the sole was peeling away from the upper. The girl needed new shoes.

After he had put on a clean dark-grey suit, Gold sat back down in his armchair and watched the bathroom door. It had been over half an hour and Ivy had not yet resurfaced. What could possibly be taking so long, he wondered. Playing with his wedding ring, his thoughts wandered to Ivy’s mother. He had tried his best to keep himself from thinking about her, but whenever he was not paying attention his thoughts wandered there again. Sooner or later he had to find a way to get Ivy back home. The prospect of succeeding and seeing Belle again after all these years, made his palms sweaty. He tried to picture her reaction, but failed. He dared not get his hopes up – hopes that she had missed him, hopes that she had forgiven him, hopes that she might, just maybe, be a little bit happy to see him again. For all he knew, she might not want to see his face ever again. He had lost her that night almost 16 years ago and there might not be a way back after all – in more than the literal sense. He would try for Ivy, but he would not expect anything for himself.

“Okay, let’s go” Ivy finally reappeared in the doorframe. She was wearing a simple grey top, her ripped jeans and holey socks and her hair was in a messy ponytail. “Have you seen my shoes?”

Gold couldn’t help but wonder again what had taken the girl so long. “The abominable things would be on the shoe rack” he answered. “You should also put on a pullover. Mornings are cold here.”

Ivy rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got my denim jacket” She ran and got her jacket from the bedroom, then walked down the hallway and sat down on the floor to put her shoes on.

“If you say so” Gold followed her to the hallway, grabbed his coat from the hall tree and the big black umbrella with the wooden handle. This was New York in the fall. It was bound to rain sooner or later. Leaning on the umbrella, he followed Ivy outdoors. It wasn’t raining yet. The sun was out, but the air was crisp nevertheless.

“So, are we taking the subway? Where are we going?” Ivy asked as soon as they had left the house. She looked at him expectantly.

If he was honest, he hadn’t got the slightest idea. He did not know where people went for breakfast in New York City, let alone where teenagers liked to go. “Um, what do you usually have for breakfast?” he asked, playing for time, while they walked up the small street.

“I don’t know. I like almost anything.” Ivy shrugged “sometimes we eat at Granny’s, if Mom is off work, but mostly I’ll just have some cereal at home. Aunt Ruby sometimes gives me a free donut and some hot chocolate when I pass Granny’s on my way to school, too.”

“The hot chocolate is quite exquisite, if I remember correctly.” Gold said conversationally.

Ivy laughed. “Everyone is always obsessed with the hot chocolate.”

Gold smiled. He knew of a place where they sold the best hot chocolate in New York, allegedly. Maybe Ivy would like that. “How would you like to taste the best hot chocolate the big city has to offer then?” he asked, hopeful.

“You know, I am not a little kid” Ivy said, raising her eyebrows.

Gold’s face fell a little. Yes, he could see that very clearly. There was another childhood gone that he had missed out on. Another child that he had, although unknowingly this time, forsaken. He wondered what Ivy had been like when she was little. Also, would she be any different, if he had played a part in her life before now? Not that Belle had not done a decent job raising their daughter on her own – because she had- he just wished that she would not have had to do it all by herself. “We could go somewhere else, if you …” he began, but Ivy cut across him.

“No, no, that’s fine. I didn’t mean… I like hot chocolate.” she said hastily, giving him a small smile.

“Alright, to The City Bakery it is then.” said Gold, flagging down a cab. The two of them got in, then Gold said “18th and 5th” and they were off.

Ivy stared out of the cab’s window as the city flew by. Never had she seen so many cars and people, never such high buildings. The city was loud and colorful and messy – and she loved it. It was like the city was a living creature itself, breathing and huffing, with its own pulse and voice. Having spent her entire life in Storybrooke, Maine, Ivy had dreamt about other places ever since she could remember. There had to be more. More than the little village with the diner, school and library. More than the people she had known all her life. More than pretty flowers and school work. Everyone always told these stories from the past about how there had been curses and dragons and sword fights; evil witches and enchanted beasts and quests between realms and times. As much as Ivy loved to listen to the other inhabitants’ stories, she could not quite picture it all happen in the little town she called home or to the people, who were her friends and family. Maybe they were making things up after all, because nothing ever seemed to happen in Storybrooke, ever. So Ivy had soughed solace in the books instead. She trusted the written word more than the spoken one. Books could not omit things, they could not lie, they could not make her feel like everyone was in on a loop that she was not. As nice as everyone always was, she had caught them looking at her differently more than once - like she was funny somehow, like she was different. Ivy remembered that, when she had been little, her mother even had to convince some of the other parents to let her have playdates with their children and to have her invited to the birthdays and sleepovers. She had never understood why and as she grew older, it seemed not to be an issue anymore, so she did not ask. She wasn’t weird or anything. She had friends. It was odd, though.

The cab stopped, yanking Ivy from her thoughts. “What is going on?” she turned in her seat to face her father.

“Morning traffic. From here, it’ll be stop and go till Union Square.” sighed Gold.

Ivy watched him. His hair was almost the same color as his suit, his thin face was lined. Yet, there was something familiar about his features. Ivy could not quite place her finger on it. He looked maybe a little different from what her mother had once described to her, but that was probably what aging did to you. Her mother had not seen the man in years. Looking at her father, Ivy tried picturing her parents together in her mind. She tried seeing the man her mother must have fallen in love with – a younger version of the man sitting next to her right now. Maybe also a happier version?! Because, when he thought she wasn’t looking, the guy seemed pretty gloomy, actually. 

“What do you do?” she asked, eyes still fixed on his face.

“Pardon?” Gold said, confused.

“I mean, what do you do for a living?” Ivy clarified. Her mother had said that her father was some sort of magician or sorcerer, which she still wasn’t sure if she believed, but even a wizard had to eat, so she was curious to find out what her dad did to pay the bills.

“Oh, well, I am a broker” said Gold, cottoning on.

Ivy made a face. A broker? - How utterly unexciting. Plus, weren’t brokers the ones who gambled with other peoples’ money and lived in riches, while the others had nothing and the economy went to the dogs? At least that was what her friend Neal had told her once. She wrinkled her nose. “Why?” she asked in a disapproving tone.

“Now, now, there is nothing wrong with my profession.” Gold said “I am just good at making deals.” He explained. 

“What deals?” Ivy asked as the cab came to yet another halt, then moved forward slowly once more.

Gold waved the question away with his hands “They involve a lot of money.”

“Mhm” said Ivy, thinking. If he had a lot of money, then why was he living in that tiny place? If she had loads of money, she would move into a house with lots of big rooms and wide windows that let the sunshine in. She would buy beautiful furniture and curtains and have colorful carpets in every room. She would build her own library, with bookshelves that touched the ceiling and she would buy more books than she could ever read in her whole lifetime. Oh, and maybe she would buy a puppy too, if her Mom would finally let her. If they had a lot of money, her mother and grandpa would no longer have to go to work, so they could all care for the puppy together. “If you make that much money, why does your house only have two rooms?” she asked, not wanting to sound rude, but also too curious not to ask.

“Because I am only one person” Gold smiled at her. There was that odd gloominess again that she had picked up on earlier. It flickered over her father’s face like a shadow, but disappeared before she could study his features more closely. Ivy nodded and did not ask anything else. 

Suddenly, the cab driver hit the brakes, swore loudly and honked, which made Ivy giggle and her father press his lips together into a disapproving thin line. When the cab was moving again, Ivy turned to look out of the window some more. Neither she nor her father said another word until they had reached their destination and got out of the cab.

There they were. The City Bakery did not look like much from the outside, but when they stepped inside, Ivy decided on the spot that she liked the place. She liked the place a lot. It smelled like vanilla and cinnamon and coffee. She wasn’t quite sure whether it was supposed to be a coffee shop, café or a cafeteria - or all three at once. The room was large and bright with wooden tables, a central coffee and bakery bar and an upstairs seating area. It wasn’t crowded, per se, but most of the tables were occupied by people chatting and sipping coffee from their large white mugs. Ivy and Gold made their way around the bar, ordering beverages and pastries before heading upstairs to find a table. While her father had only ordered a plain coffee (black, no sugar, no milk), Ivy had opted for a Baker’s Muffin - a large, crumbly, crispy muffin that looked a bit like a funnel cake with a generous sprinkle of powdered sugar on top – and a fluffy pretzel croissant - which she had never had before and which both fascinated and repulsed her at the same time. She topped the whole thing off with a large bowl of frothy hot cocoa with homemade square marshmallows. Gold stared at her incredulously and was still staring at her when they had sat down opposite each other at one of the free tables.

“What? I am hungry.” Ivy blushed, picking at her pretzel croissant. It tasted somewhat funny, but not in a bad way. You just did not expect your pastries to be both sweet and salty at the same time, usually. She took a sip of the hot chocolate to balance the whole thing out. It was smooth and not too sweet. She loved it. It might even have been better than Granny’s famous chocolate back home. She would never mention that to either her or Ruby, of course – her supply of free donuts and chocolate would dry up instantly. Ivy smiled broadly at her father, who smiled back hesitantly. 

After she was half done with the pretzel thingy, she attacked the enormous muffin, which was equally tasty, and talked between mouthfuls. “So, how can you be a broker and a wizard at the same time?” she asked, picking their previous conversation back up. 

Gold looked around their table nervously, but nobody was paying attention to them. The general buzz made it hard to listen in or eavesdrop even on the conversation going on at the closest tables. He relaxed his shoulders again. “You should not talk about these things in public.” He scolded. “People might think you are crazy – and they are not fond of the crazy here, generally.”

Ivy looked at him, clapping her hands over her mouth. 

“This is a world without magic and it does neither understand nor tolerate it.” Gold continued, looking around again.

“Oh, so the Muggles don’t like the magic folk.” Ivy whispered conspiratorially “Got it.” She giggled at her father’s nonplussed expression. “Don’t tell me you have never heard of Harry Potter.” She grinned.

Gold frowned. “Can’t say that I have.”

“You need to read more!” She pointed at him, leaning forward in her seat a little. 

The resemblance to her mother was so striking in that instant, that Gold’s heart missed a beat and his stomach plummeted. Maybe he should have had some breakfast after all. 

The smile on Ivy’s face faltered. “You okay?” she asked, waving her hand in front of his face.

“Yes. Yes, all is well.” Gold said stiffly “Now, you finish your breakfast.” He waved at her airily.

Ivy raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the left. “Oookay” she said “whatever you say.” 

Gold watched his daughter finish her food in silence. She was shooting him questioning glances now and then, but did not say or ask anything. Slowly, his pulse returned to normal. To have her sprung on him like that, when he wasn’t even the least bit prepared … if the girl stayed with him some more time and pulled things like this out of the blue, he might just die of sudden heart failure, if he wasn’t careful. 

As soon as they were done with breakfast and had walked down the street for a little bit, pausing to look at the books on display at Books of Wonder, the downpour started. Rain drummed down on the pavement, turning it into a run. Gold and Ivy quickly got under the umbrella and hurried back towards the bakery. One of the baristas smiled at them when they reentered and said “Third time this morning. Well, it keeps the customers inside.” 

They ordered another pair of hot drinks and looked for a free table. They would wait until the rain had stopped. Ivy’s shoes squeaked with every step that she took. The sound was horrible and Gold did not much like the attention it drew from the other customers. So he was rather relieved when, at last, they found a small free table and could sit down again.

“We are buying you proper footwear on the way back” Gold said. He was certain that Ivy’s feet were both wet and cold. How her mother would allow her to wear those things was beyond him. “So you can throw those dismal things out.”

“No.” Ivy crossed her arms and stared at her father over the table, unblinking. These were her favorite Chucks and she would keep them. 

This wasn’t quite the reaction he had expected. Blinking, Gold looked at Ivy’s set face. Why would she object to this, when clearly her shoes were falling off her feet? It made no sense to him whatsoever. Why keep something that was broken and worn beyond repair; something that did no longer fulfil its purpose? It puzzled him. “But your feet must be wet and cold in th-“he began, trying to reason with her.

“My. Feet. Are. Fine.” said Ivy waspishly.

There was the attitude again. Gold did not know what to do with it. Why was the girl being difficult when all he was trying to do was to be nice - and ensure she would not get sick?! He did not understand her behavior one bit. “Very well then” He said “but not very good manners.”

“Whatever.” Ivy said. She leaned back in her seat. 

Gold was lost. They had gotten along just fine the whole morning, even made conversation and all of a sudden the girl was prickly and uncommunicative. “Your behavior is highly inappropriate, especially since I just made a generous offer.” 

Ivy groaned. “Jeez, I just want to keep my shoes, okay. That’s all.”

“Not reasonable.” Gold said curtly. 

“So?” Ivy shot back.

Father and daughter glared at each other for a moment. Gold was losing his patience with the girl. Her behavior confused an irritated him to no end and he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep his own temper in check if she chose to continue to be like this for much longer. Hadn’t her mother taught her proper manners? This was ridiculous and he did not much feel like continuing the conversation. “We should leave now.” He said, getting up at once and heading back down the stairs.

Stunned Ivy looked after her father. She was fuming. She would certainly not get up and walk out there right now. Not while it was still raining cats and dogs! Was he insane or something?! And what even was his problem anyway?! What was it with adults and their insistence on what they called ‘proper’ shoes?! She had had to fish her Chucks out of the garbage twice already, because her mother did not like them either. Yeah, well, bummer. She noticed that she could not see her father anymore from where she was sitting and sat up a little straighter in her seat, trying to locate him. When she couldn’t, she got up and looked down from the seating area. No grey suit in sight. She ran down the stairs and finally spotted him standing outside the bakery on the sidewalk. He wasn’t doing anything. He just stood there, holding the umbrella. Reluctantly and dragging her feet, Ivy followed outside, but carefully avoided the umbrella. She just stood there in the rain, in safe distance, arms crossed. 

Neither of them moved or looked at the other for a few seconds. Then Gold exclaimed “For heaven’s sake!” and stepped sideways until Ivy was shielded from the rain as well. Next he held out his arm to hail a cab, but nothing happened. To get a cab during heavy rain wasn’t the easiest feat to accomplish. He lowered his arm again and looked at Ivy, who was now standing next to him, but still stared resolutely ahead . She was shivering slightly. Pigheaded girl. Gold shrugged out of his coat with some difficulty - trying not to drop the umbrella - and put it around his daughter’s shoulders. Ivy gave a start at the touch, but did not flinch away or protest. Instead of looking at him, however, she looked at her feet, let out a breath and said “Thank you” in a low voice. There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Gold shook his head and put his arm out once more. This time they were luckier and a cab stopped for them within seconds.


	5. Say and Do

### Chapter 5: Say and Do

“I say we break it.” Said Henry, standing up and slamming his hands on the table. The others looked up at him, surprised.

“It is not that easy, honey” said Regina, who was sitting to his left and now placed a soothing hand on his arm “there are more factors to be considered.”

“Like what?” he asked “We have got to help!” he would not let Belle and Ivy down. They were family and they needed everyone’s help right now. Didn’t the others understand that?! But then again, none of them had seen Belle last night. It was he, who had found her at the town line. He, who had almost had to carry a distraught Belle to the car and take her home. She had been so upset, she couldn’t even talk properly. “What would you do, if it was me?” he rounded on both his mothers “Like, a younger me, anyway.” He added hastily.

Regina and Emma looked at each other and then back at their grown-up son. 

“Well…” Regina said slowly.

“This isn’t right.” Henry sat back down, looking around the table as if to challenge anyone present to contradict him.

“We know, sweetie, but…” Regina said, but Emma cut across her, standing up and addressing the group.

“You know, the kid is right. This isn’t right. We have to do something. Belle and Ivy are part of this town. They are part of our family. You know, ohana and shit, we can’t just sit around twiddling our thumbs and let them fend for themselves!” 

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose. Why did the two of them always have to be so rash?!

“That’s true” piped up Snow from the other end of the round table, Charming to her right. “However, there are more people’s interests to consider here.” Emma glared at her mother, but Snow did not back down. “If we break the curse and the enchantment is lifted – yes, that means we can come and go as we please, but so can everybody else. We have been there before.”

“Exactly. I am not sure I want all sorts of riffraff back in the town.” Agreed Leroy, who was sitting next to Charming. “It’s been blissfully quiet for the past years. I, for one, would like to keep it that way.”

“Oh, so you’re saying that you are perfectly okay with losing Belle and Ivy for good then?!” Ruby bellowed at the dwarf, leaping to her feet. “Because that’s what is going to happen. Belle will go after her, that’s for sure. She’d be gone already if she wasn’t still passed out from exertion!”

“I am sorry, sister, but if I had to choose, I am not sure I would pick the two of them over a disaster-free life.” Leroy shot back and there was some agreeing murmur around the table. “Back then there was new drama every day. You could hardly catch your breath, before some new shit went down! Isn’t that why we agreed not to break the curse all those years ago - to be able to live a peaceful and magical-disturbance-free life?!” he looked around “We voted on that!”

Ruby glowered at the dwarfs, who were all nodding their heads in agreement to Leroy’s words. A low growl was building up in her throat. Those ungrateful, pampered, selfish, little … !

“Ruby!” Granny pulled her granddaughter back to her seat. “Maybe we should vote again.” She said to the room at large. “See how the people feel about this.”

“Could we even break the curse?” Charming asked “Hypothetically speaking?”

Everyone turned to look at Regina, who shifted a little uncomfortably in her seat. She looked at Charming, her face clearly saying _well, for sure, you couldn’t_ , before she got up to speak. “Well, maybe. The attempts in the past – before the vote on the issue – were unsuccessful, though.”

“You mean, _your_ attempts were…” said Emma under her breath, smirking a little. 

Regina shot her a quick warning look, before she continued. “Which does not mean that it is impossible. After the vote no one looked into the matter any further. There was no reason to. Maybe now there is.” She sat back down. Henry smiled at her.

“We should vote.” Said Leroy again.

“Maybe we should weigh all options first.” Said Charming, frowning. “Are there any ways any of you could think of that would allow Belle to travel realms and to bring her daughter back with her safely without the curse needing to be broken?”

“I am not sure that is even po-“ Regina began, but Emma kicked her under the table. 

“Let them think first, okay?” she said through the corner of her mouth. 

“Keep that up and you’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, dear.” Regina hissed between gritted teeth, massaging her shin with her other foot, but she did not continue to speak.

The room fell silent.

“Some sort of magical transport, perhaps?” Henry proposed after a few minutes “Like magic beans or fairy dust?”

“There are no longer any beans.” Said Anton, who was sitting in a corner of the office, slouched on the floor, so he would not hit his head on the ceiling. Although he had been shrunk, he was still taller than most town buildings would allow.

“Fairy dust could work to get Belle to her daughter safely. If she believed in finding her strongly enough” Tink said slowly “but it is going to be too weak to get them both back here. The counter influences are too strong. Using it successfully in a world without magic would require an exorbitant amount of belief energy. Only children have that.”

“Ivy is a child.” Ruby tossed in.

“She is a teenager.” Corrected Blue, who was seated beside Tinkerbell. “That is different. And even if Ivy managed to activate it … even the strongest belief-based magic would most likely fail against a strong protection curse – like the one around this town.”

“What about a magical wardrobe or some other kind of enchanted furniture – I don’t know a carpet, maybe?!” Emma tried, directing her attention to Geppetto, who sat between the fairies and Archie.

“I am afraid, it won’t work.” The woodcarver said, sadly. “The enchantment only works one-way. It cannot be reactivated from the other side, if leading to a land without magic.” Blue nodded along to what he was saying.

“Alright, no beans, no dust, no furniture.” Charming ticked them off on his fingers. “Any other ideas?” he looked around expectantly. “Come on, people!”

“Couldn’t we maybe, you know, summon her?” piped up Ella in a small voice “She is the dark one’s child after all.”

Several people glared at the blonde woman. Regina buried her face in her hands and groaned.  
“That is not how it works, _princess_.” She said exasperatedly. “Yes, Ivy is his blood, but she isn’t herself magical, as far as we know. She is _not_ her father. So, maybe I am going out on a limb here,” she continued, a hint of sarcasm in her tone “but summoning her with, oh, let’s say her father’s dagger, for instance, certainly won’t work.”

Ella crossed her arms, affronted, but didn’t say anything. 

Nobody spoke for a little bit. Then a timid voice came from Henry’s right side. “M-maybe” the young woman stuttered, getting to her feet. She blushed a little as all eyes fell on her “Maybe, I could ask my father to make a new hat.” She said uncertainly. Henry smiled at his fiancée and stood up too – to back her up. 

“That could work.” He said enthusiastically. “I mean, you hat-travelled during the first curse, didn’t you, Mom?” he turned to Regina, who looked up at the pair, skeptical. 

“Yes, but…” she said, trying to find the right words. She was not convinced that Grace’s father would help – not even if his daughter asked him to. Jefferson had kept to himself, not wanting anything to do with town business or the town’s people for over a decade. He just spent his time shut up in his house, doing god knew what in his study and he was probably going even madder by the second. Also, he did not approve of his daughter’s engagement to the evil queen’s son, which had caused a rift between him and Grace. Would he do her the favor? Regina wasn’t so sure of it. And, would he do it to save the dark one’s daughter? He still had a score to settle with Rumplestilskin – like most of the townsfolk had. It didn’t seem likely. No, not at all.

“You would need a skilled guide to help you navigate doors.” Regina said, still thinking “Someone reliable and sharp. And even then, hat magic would still be a tad unreliable.” She frowned “Also Belle could merely try to snatch Ivy at the other end, but probably not leave the hat. If everybody left the hat on the other side – given they made it out the right exit- it could mean that the hat would need to be reactivated in order to get them back here. Belle isn’t magical and neither is her daughter. They could be stuck there without some sort of magical kickstarter on them.” Regina looked apologetically at her son and her soon-to-be daughter-in-law. “I am afraid; the whole thing is probably too risky. Sorry.”

The two sat back down. Henry put his arm around Grace.

“Are we sure that no-one is exempt from the curse?” asked Emma, her face screwed up in concentration. “You know, like Henry and I were from the first one.”

“Yeah, we could leave!” agreed Henry. 

“I am still the savior, right?” Emma went on “maybe that means I can leave?” she wondered aloud.

“No, dear” Regina interjected quickly. “You were the one this curse was made for. Ingrid specifically designed it, so you and Elsa would be unable to cross the town lines.”

“But Elsa left!” Emma said, crossing her arms and pouting.

“Technically, she never crossed the town line.” Regina said calmly. “She and her people used the door to travel realms.”

“What about Ivy?” asked Henry “technically, she did not exist yet, when that curse was cast, right?”

Regina considered her son for a moment, but then shook her head sadly. “No, I don’t think that works either. She might not technically have been cursed herself, but she was born under the curse, which makes me almost one hundred percent certain than she would not be exempt from its effect.”

“Yeah, Alex wasn’t” piped up Ella’s husband suddenly - then turned to his wife, uncertain “At least I think she wasn’t, right, Ella?” 

Silence fell again.

“Sooo, can we get back to the voting now?” said Leroy impatiently. 

“Maybe that’s what we should do.” Said Granny “and if it is only to shut this ray of sunshine over there up!” 

There were a few laughs. Then Regina got to her feet again. “Alright then, let’s put this to the vote…”  
Someone coughed to her left. Of course - the cricket. Regina sighed. “Yes, Archie?”

Archie stood up, clearing is throat once more before he spoke, his hands folded neatly. “Please, everyone, before you make up your mind about this, consider the situation again. It is true that most of us have enjoyed the calm and quiet” he nodded in Leroy’s general direction. “However, it is equally true that these are our friends, or in some instances, family, who need our assistance and compassion now.” He looked around the table. “Also don’t fail to remember what Belle did for all of us when she banished her true love for all our safety – and what she continued to do for us when she abstained from voting in the first vote on this issue, even though she was expecting his baby.” He looked imploringly at all assembled “It is your choice, of course, but please do not decide this one lightly.” He sat back down. There was a little pause and some murmur around the table.

“Okay. Thank you, Archie.” Regina said “Could I have everyone’s attention now, please?!” she said over the babble. “Would those in favor of breaking the curse please raise their hands now.”

Henry’s and Emma’s hands shot up in the air instantly - as did Granny’s, Grace’s and, to Ella’s and Aurora’s astonishment, Prince Phillip’s. Ruby had both her hands in the air, for good measure. A few seconds passed then Geppetto, Tinkerbell, the Charmings and Archie raised their hands as well. The dwarfs looked around uncertainly, then all of them – except for Leroy – raised their hands slowly, too. Leroy glared around at his brothers, but they did not lower their hands again. Tinkerbell nudged Blue, who raised her hand rather reluctantly. Next were Ella’s husband and Aurora. 

“Come on, Ella.” He said in an undertone “Our Alex is friends with Ivy.” 

Ella raised her hand then, but was giving every sign that she did not actually want to do so. 

“Excuse me,” piped up Anton from his corner. “I am not clear on whether I am allowed to vote?” he asked shyly. Snow turned in her seat, nodded and smiled at him encouragingly. “Anyway,” the former giant continued “if so, I’d like to vote in favor.”

At last, Regina raised her own hand, before saying “Now then. That would be everyone – except Leroy – in favor of breaking the curse. Is that correct?”

Everyone’s “Yes” echoed through the room.

“Alright, alright!” grumbled Leroy, finally raising his right hand, too. “But I am telling you now – it’s going to be mayhem the second that curse breaks!” he shouted “And when all sorts of magical and non-magical lowlives turn up and hell breaks loose again, I’ll be the first to say I frickin’ told you so!” 

“You do that” said Snow warmly, leaning over the table to squeeze Leroy’s left hand – at which the dwarf’s face turned maroon.

“Alright” said Regina “that would be everyone, thus the breaking of the current curse has been passed unanimously and is now paramount.” She sat back down.

“Now what?!” said Leroy, who had crossed his arms and was leaning back in his chair.

“Now we need to figure out how to break the curse.” Said Charming “Emma? Regina?”

The two addressed looked at each other and then back at the group.

“Well,” Regina began “usually a curse breaks automatically, when someone commits an act of true love or the person who cast it dies. However, although she did both, Ingrid’s curse only broke partially, so…”

“so part of her is still alive?” Emma said, a little weirded out and making a face. She wasn’t the only one. All around the table people looked surprised or a little sickened at that piece of news. 

“How is that even possible?” Snow asked. “It has been years!”

“Maybe she had Horcruxes?” Emma tried, turning to Regina.

“Hor-what?” Regina asked quizzically. 

Everybody turned their attention back to Emma, who went slightly red in the face.

“Oh, you know…” she said.

“No, I don’t know.” Regina crossed her arms at Emma’s surprised expression “whatever do you mean?”

“I can’t explain it properly.” Emma said, put on the spot. She turned to Henry for help, who came to her aid immediately. 

“It is an object, which has been magically altered and which contains part of the wizard’s or witch’s soul, so he or she cannot die.” He explained.

“There is no such thing.” Said Regina curtly.

“Okay, maybe not a part of the soul then.” Said Henry “but couldn’t there be an object of Ingrid's hidden somewhere still, which prevents the curse from fully breaking?”

Regina mulled it over. “Possible.” She said “even if unlikely.”

“It is our best bet, though, isn’t it?” Emma said.

“It’s a start.” Regina agreed.

“So you want everyone to search for an unknown object, which we don’t even know exist, just in case it might break the curse?” asked Leroy, unenthusiastically.

“Do you have a better idea?” asked Ruby, vexed “then let’s hear it, dwarf!”

Leroy did not reply, just mumbled incoherently.

“Didn’t think so.” Ruby said. “How do we do this then? Where do we start?”

Everyone turned their attention back to Emma and Regina, waiting for instructions. Regina stood up and went to get a town map, which she spread over the table. Next, they again divided the town into quadrants and assigned teams to search them thoroughly – just as they had done when they had been looking for Ivy. Those who would not be part of the search had other tasks to see to – like research. Others would see to it that town life would continue to run smoothly - teaching at school, minding the little kids at daycare, helping out at the hospital, some of the shops or the diner. They had everything covered. After all, locating the mysterious object (which maybe did not exist – as Leroy kept reminding everyone constantly) and breaking the curse would probably take them a while. 

When Regina finally rolled up the map and everyone scrambled to their feet to leave, the clock tower chimed noon. That had been one hell of a long town meeting, Emma thought, stretching. Her stomach growled – It was high time for some lunch. She got to her feet last, but when she reached the door, stopped abruptly and burst out laughing. On the hallway floor sat three busted teenagers – her brother Neal, Ella’s daughter Alex and Aurora’s son Phil – who apparently had snuck out of school to eavesdrop on the meeting and were now in for the lecture of a lifetime from their livid parents. Oh, the joys of teenage life, Emma grinned to herself as she passed them, and then stuck her tongue out behind her parents’ backs when she caught Neal’s eye, before leaving the building and heading towards Granny’s.


	6. Stuck and in Motion

### Chapter 6: Stuck and in Motion 

Gold sat in his living room staring at the screen of his laptop. Although most of the things in his house were old, you could also call them outdated, the little computer was the one exception. He had bought it to be able to do more of his work from home. He did not much fancy having to sit in an office cubicle or having to deal with annoying co-workers on a daily basis. He could also have rented or bought an office for himself, but that would have meant that his clients would have gotten the opportunity to annoy him in person whenever they pleased and it would probably also have involved him having to get a secretary or assistant to keep them at bay. He didn’t want any of it. Maybe it was his general dislike of the city or his tendencies to avoid most people talking there, but most of his clients seemed to be of the peculiarly stupid kind. Of course he had to have meetings with them occasionally to fix deals, which he grudgingly did, but he kept human contact to the bare minimum otherwise. He could navigate on the computer fairly well by now – if his task was work-related – but otherwise the strange thing still puzzled him greatly.

After they had returned from the City Bakery and Ivy had vanished to the bedroom slamming the door shut behind her, Gold had rescheduled his meetings for the week. He had a feeling that he would not get much work done with his new houseguest present – plus, the two of them had to work out a way to get Ivy home. So instead of working, he had been browsing the pages of his usual grocery delivery service wondering what on earth he should buy to stock the fridge and cupboards with. What did teenagers eat and did it come pre-cooked and in packages? – Because he was a terrible cook. He could only manage a handful of dishes half-decently. None of them seemed that child-friendly. He couldn’t just buy a few boxes of froot loops, some donuts and microwavable mac and cheese dinners, could he? Even he knew that stuff was rubbish. Belle would surely kill him if he fed the child nothing but junk. So, what to buy? He was lost. He stared at the bedroom door for a moment. Maybe he should go and ask Ivy what she wanted, but he had a feeling that he’d only get a snarky remark or sassy comment out of her on the issue.

However, there was something else that he had to ask her. Something more important than food preferences. He really should not put this off any longer. He had given her a few hours to sulk and calm down. That had to be enough. Gold grabbed his cane and walked over to the bedroom. He knocked gently and waited for an answer. He wasn’t even sure why he knocked. It was his bedroom and it was his house, wasn’t it? When Ivy did not answer, he slowly opened the door and stuck his head in. Ivy was lying on the bed, reading a book. She looked at him then, over her paperback which she did not lower. 

“I think we need to talk.” Gold began nervously, leaning against the doorframe.

Ivy blinked. “Is this about the shoes again?! Because I told you I…” 

“No, no, not the shoes.” He said calmly. He walked over to the bed, sitting down on its end. “This is about your mother.”

Ivy put her book down. “What about her?” Her own question echoed in her mind. Yeah, what about her mother -would she be mad at her? Probably. That was if she ever made it home in the first place. She tried not to think about the possibility of not being able to return too much. The thought freaked her out rather more than she liked to admit – even to herself. Her father had said that they would find a way – even if there still was a spell on the town. So there was nothing to worry about, was there? Ivy wondered, if her father would simply see to it that she got back to Storybrooke or if he would actually come with her. What would her mother say if she turned up with her dad? When she was little she had often imagined what that would be like – having a father and mother and the three of them living together. Now that she was older, however, she wasn’t sure that that was actually something that she really wanted. And if she did, would it even be a possibility? Her mother had always seemed really sad when she had talked about Ivy’s dad. Sad, but also a little angry. What if she was still angry with him for leaving them? What if she would be angry with Ivy for bringing him home with her? Maybe she should go back alone after all then. Or not. That was, if she could. 

“Are you alright?” Gold asked. He had been studying his daughter’s face carefully. He was sure that all of this was affecting the girl more than she was letting on. If she was anything like him, though, she’d rather deny that she was afraid, than actually make herself feel the emotion. He prayed that she wasn’t taking after him in the emotions department.

When Ivy did not reply, Gold said “I think it necessary that we contact your mother to let her know where you are. It has almost been a full day.”

“I don’t have my phone” Ivy said. “Mom has it.” After a pause she added “… and it’s been almost three. Three days.”

Gold nodded. “Then even more so. You could call her from my landline.” He suggested “She needs to know you are okay.”

“Can I – like – do that later?” Ivy asked in a small voice. She did not look at him, but stared fixedly at the book in her lap. 

“I am afraid it would better be done sooner than later” he said. He could see that the girl was uncomfortable, maybe a little scared, but a phone call surely wasn’t that bad. He could not imagine Belle being anything but relieved to hear that Ivy was safe. There was nothing the girl had to be afraid of. 

Ivy drew her knees up and held onto her feet, mumbling “I- I really don’t want to… but … maybe, um, you could…?” She looked up at him pleadingly. 

Gold looked at his daughter’s face. The bright blue eyes pleading with him, her teeth biting her lower lip, her head tilted to the side just a little bit. He was doomed. How was he supposed to refuse her when she bore such great resemblance to her mother? How was he supposed to say no when she looked at him like this – with those eyes? Oh, he would regret this. “The shop’s number. Is it still the same?” he asked, feeling his hands getting sweaty.

Ivy nodded, a shy smile appearing on her features.

Great – or not great, Gold thought as he limped across the narrow hallway to the phone. Why and how exactly did he get tricked into doing this? He picked up the phone and stopped just short of dialing. It wasn’t the number that was the problem. He remembered it perfectly. When someone would pick up – that was where the hard part would start. He did not know what he dreaded more, actually, Maurice or Belle answering his call. Whilst a conversation with the old florist and former king would be highly unpleasant, hearing Belle’s voice on the other end would surely rip him apart instantly. He had tried to hold onto the sound of her voice for so long, but he wasn’t even sure that the fading memory did it justice anymore. He could feel his heart pounding as he dialed the first digits. What would it be like to hear her voice again? Swallowing hard, he made his shaking fingers dial the whole number, before he could change his mind. The line clicked. He waited, heart beating painfully against his ribcage, mouth dry. Pressing the receiver to his ear, all he could hear was another clicking sound, silence and his own rapid breathing. Then a voice said "We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again." Exhaling, Gold banged the phone back on the hook and leaned his back against the wall, cold sweat trickling down his spine. He just stood there for a moment, eyes closed and breathing hard. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears.

He was certain that he had gotten the number right, so this just confirmed his fear that the curse was still in effect and was making it impossible to reach anyone in Storybrooke. That also meant that he and Ivy could not simply drive up to the town line and cross it. How in the world would he break that to the girl? - That and the fact that he had not got the slightest idea how to get to the other side, despite of what he had said to her the day before. If he had had any inkling on how to break the curse from where they were, he would have broken it years ago. He would have gone back years ago. Nothing had changed. Maybe except that he had the dagger now, but that did not change things as much as he would have liked it to. It meant nothing. The dagger meant nothing. He had no powers here, so the dagger did not hold any power either. It was, as Ivy had pointed out previously, utterly useless. He could probably still be killed with it, Gold mused, but what good would that do? The dagger was useless and so was he.

They were stuck and stuck for good it seemed. Unless someone from the other side decided to unstuck them. Maybe Belle would? She surely was moving heaven and hell right now to get her child back – but what if she couldn’t? What if the citizens of Storybrooke were prisoners to the curse and the town just as much as he and Ivy were prisoners to this world? Gold opened his eyes. What, oh what would he tell the girl?

On the other end of the phone line the phone had remained silent. No one in the little flat over the flower shop would have guessed that they had just been supposed to be on the receiving end of a cross-realm call. Belle was running around the flat, hurriedly collecting items of clothing, blankets and toiletries to cram into a suitcase and one of Ivy’s bigger duffle bags. She went intently from room to room, so not to forget something important. At last she stood in the little kitchen, packing sandwiches and pieces of fruit, water bottles and a thermos with hot chamomile tea. Her father sat at the kitchen table, looking defeated. He followed her movements with his eyes, but did not speak. He had said what he had wanted to say earlier already– or rather he had yelled it. Belle had yelled back unflinchingly and now that there wasn’t anything left to yell about anymore, the two of them had fallen silent. They would never agree on these kinds of things. Maybe they would never agree on anything ever. He wanted her safe at home and wished her to wait until the curse was broken, while she could not bear to wait another second. He was afraid of losing her, but she was more afraid of losing Ivy. If the town would not be able to break the curse, she and Ivy could not return, but that was a risk that she had to take. Her daughter was alone in a world without magic and needed her right now. Maurice could not lock her in the shop and hope that things would sort themselves out and that Ivy would just resurface unharmed after the curse got broken. That wasn’t how things worked. She had got to go. She prayed that she would not be too late, that Ivy was alright. Her thoughts wandered to all the horrible things that could have befallen her little girl and she had to push them to the back of her mind to even function. No, no, Ivy was okay. Alone and frightened maybe, but otherwise unscathed. She had to be.

Regina had given her a small bewitched compass that was supposed to lead her straight to her daughter. This time, instead of a locator spell, the compass was bestowed with a magic of its own, which would ensure that it kept its magical properties even in a land without magic. The compass’ magic was blood magic - it was able to locate Belle’s blood and lead her to it. Much to her father’s dismay she had let Regina take some of her blood for the spell. Although, she literally just had to have her finger pricked for it, Maurice had thrown a fit over it when she had told him about it. He disliked and feared magic and he vehemently opposed anything that had her involved in anything magical or supernatural. Like father, like daughter Belle thought and sighed. She could see where her father was coming from now that she was a mother herself. She had fought over magic with her daughter as well, hadn’t she? Magic came with a price. However, she was old enough to make choices about it on her own. Ivy was not. Ivy was too young to understand any of it yet. Too young to understand that some decisions had consequences that were forever. She did not yet know that some of your actions had consequences that could hurt and sting for years to come. Belle knew all those things. She knew them all too well. It was not for her father to protect her from any of it, however much he wished to– that ship had sailed and was long gone-, but it was her responsibility to protect Ivy. Protect her for as long as she possibly could.

Belle dragged the suitcase and the duffle to the hallway and put on her shoes and a coat. Then she stood, looking down at the compass that was dangling from a golden chain around her neck. The arrow quaveringly pointed south. Outside a car honked. That had to be Ruby. Her friend had insisted on accompanying her to fetch Ivy. Belle had told her repeatedly that she did not have to come. What if they were unable to return? What if the others would not manage to break the curse for weeks, for months or even for years to come? What if they would never be able to break it? Belle did not want to be the reason for Ruby to be away from Granny - from her family - for an indefinite amount of time. When she had told Ruby as much, however, Ruby had laughed and told her that she had to be silly if she did not consider herself and Ivy to be Ruby’s family just as much as Granny was. There was no way for Belle to change Ruby’s mind. Ruby wanted to come and so she would. It still irked her that Ivy had outsmarted her with false trails and she was determined to complete the search for her successfully. Maybe it was the wolf in her that felt cheated out of prey after a hunt, Belle thought. Ruby further insisted on driving her red 1975 Camaro to wherever Ivy was. Belle knew that Ruby did not believe that Ivy had made it very far. Even so, she had assured Belle that her old red car was up for a long journey too, if that was what it took. She had taken it to the Zimmers’ for a checkup –just to be safe - right after they had talked about the journey, when Ruby had returned from the town meeting to check on Belle.

Belle walked into the kitchen again, hugging her father around the neck. “Don’t worry, we will be alright” she whispered.

“Do you really have to leave like this?” Maurice asked “It’s going to be dark soon. Can’t you at least wait until the morning?”

Belle hugged him a little tighter. “You know I can’t, papa.” She kissed him on the cheek and straightened up, letting go. It pained her to leave him behind all by himself like this, but hopefully she would not be gone that long.

Belle could hear more honking outside. Ruby wasn’t a patient person, Belle knew. She’d better go, before Ruby would alert the whole town with her honking fest. They had to get going; she was ready to go. Belle turned to leave and Maurice got up too and followed her to the hallway. 

“Let me help you with these” he said and took hold of the suitcase. 

Belle smiled at him and picked up the duffle. Together they walked down into the shop and out into the chilly evening air to meet Ruby, who stood, waiting, leaning against her car.


	7. Hold Back the River

### Chapter 7: Hold Back the River 

Liars. They were all liars. Ivy angrily dried her tears and sniffled. Say one thing and do another. Say one thing and then change your mind the next day. She had really thought that he would be different – or rather she had hoped. Those silly little hopes and dreams you had about what a person would be like; the little play you wrote in your head – and then you actually got to meet them and all of it blew up in your face, she thought smiling bitterly. He had said it would be alright. He had said they would figure it out. He had said that he would get her home. Liar. Why did people keep lying to her?

Ivy looked around. The wet street and leafless trees did nothing to cheer her up. It all seemed grey and unwelcoming to her. The two-faced creature had reared its ugly deformed head and shown its true colors. Its pulse, which she had liked so much, the business, the chaos – it appeared to be closing in on her now. She wanted to up and leave so desperately. Leave the cold and damp stairs she was sitting on and run, run from this place as fast as she could, feet flying and lungs burning. But where would she go? There was nowhere to run to. She could not go home, that was for sure, and maybe she didn’t even want to. She clenched her teeth and blinked her tears back angrily.

While everything seemed clearer now, at the same time nothing made sense anymore. Ivy wished for her mother to be there with her right now. She both longed for the comfort and wanted to yell at her until her lungs gave out. How could she not have told her? How could she just have _forgotten_ to tell her? How could she just have omitted that _little peculiar detail_ about who he was and what that made Ivy? How could her own mother keep it from her, that her father was none other than freaking _you know who_ (except that Ivy had not _known who_ )?! Ivy yelled out in frustration and threw her battered copy of _The Tenant of Wildfell Hall_ , that she had been clutching, as far as she could across the street. 

She had a right to know. She had always had a right to know! She was not a little kid anymore. Why did no one ever acknowledge that ever?! Agitated, she jumped up to get her book back, then changed her mind halfway and turned back around, kicking the lowest stone step with her foot. No wonder they had been looking at her funny, Ivy thought, no wonder she had always felt more on the outside than part of the in-crowd. They all had known and no one had ever bothered to say anything. The betrayal stung. Wiping her nose with the sleeve of her shirt, she sat back down. Well, if they did not need her then she would certainly not need them. If she had to be Luke Skywalker then maybe it was time for her to embrace the dark side of the force, she thought. Or maybe she got that wrong. She always got those references wrong – Neal liked to remind her of it whenever he could. Ivy wondered, whether Neal knew who she really was and who her father had been. If he had known and not told her, their friendship would officially be over and she would rip his dumb head off. 

So her father was Rumplestilskin. She had known that that was his name, but she never knew what it _meant_. Her mother had told her that he was a powerful sorcerer, which was true, but had conveniently skipped the part where he also was the Dark One. Ivy had read about the Dark One in one of the books she had snatched from her mother, but all it had to say on the matter was that the Dark One was _a man or a woman gifted with powerful magical abilities, but cursed with eternal life._ That didn’t really help. Oh, and of course there were the stories that she had been growing up with, that were told around town and which had always referred to a _dark sorcerer_ \- and how he had caused them a whole lot of grief and made an exorbitant mess out of everyone’s lives. Ivy remembered that she had always found the character fascinating and had felt strangely drawn to the dark and gruesome parts of the stories. She remembered asking for details, which no one would give. And she remembered the way some had looked at her then – surprised, repulsed, worried, with pity in their eyes. Screw them!, she thought resentfully, kicking the step she was sitting on with her heels until it hurt. Her heart was racing now.

If her father was the Dark One, shouldn’t he have _powerful magical abilities_?! If that was true, Ivy wondered why he pretended to be unable to send her home. She tried piecing together all the jumbled information she had on the dark sorcerer, placing bits from the stories next to what her mother had described. It wouldn’t fit. Neither would her own experiences from the past few days. Confused and irritated, she ran her hand through her hair and jumped back up. She looked around wildly, loud rushing noise in her ears, her hands clenched to fists. The red-hot rage radiating from her core was pulsing through her entire body now, making her tremble. Maybe, she thought, maybe he did not want to. He probably did not care. Maybe she had been stupid to assume otherwise. Furious, she kicked out at the railings repeatedly. He had left her mother before Ivy had even been born. Maybe he had not wanted her. Maybe that was why. No, surely that was why! He probably did not want her now, either. If he was so powerful, he would have come for her sooner if he had wanted her, ever! Breathing heavy, she stood motionless for a few seconds, thoughts racing and blood rushing. And what, for crying out loud, had her mother been doing with a powerful dark sorcerer in the first place?! Ivy’s temple started throbbing. Her mom hated magic! Maybe, Ivy thought with a jolt, maybe he had forced her? Bewitched her somehow? No, no, that could not be true, could it? More horrible thoughts kept washing over her like dark waves, clashing against her ribs and making it hard to breathe. What -, she wondered, what if her mother had not wanted her either? Ivy shook her head vigorously, trying to shake the icy feeling creeping up on her. She squeezed her eyes shut, turned around and punched one of the concrete stair posts – just once, but hard. She didn’t even feel any pain.

She had not heard him come outside. She had not noticed him hurrying towards her. She only became aware of his presence as he put his arms around her from behind, holding her tight, keeping her from punching the post again. She could smell his aftershave and washing detergent.  
Ivy struggled against his hold, gritting her teeth, her fists clenched ready to strike, huffing in anger and frustration. She pushed against him, but to no avail. He had folded her arms across her chest, and held her wrists in both of his hands, using just enough force to restrain her safely. 

Gradually, her breathing slowed. She felt dizzy and strangely light-headed, her vision a little blurry. Ivy closed her eyes. Instead of enraged, the knot in her stomach now made her rather nauseous. She stopped fighting against the hold, the anger subsiding and giving way to cold black despair. Within seconds she was in tears. Once the bawling and ugly sobbing had started there was no way she could have stopped, even if she had wanted to. She was shaking like a leaf from the violent sobs. The crying made it very difficult to breathe, forcing her to gasp for air frequently. 

The two of them had sunk to the ground. Her father had turned her around gently and was now holding her, kneeling, while she wept, crying her eyes out. She did not care that he did not want her. She did not care that nobody wanted her. 

Gold was white as a sheet. He held Ivy in his arms, his knees going numb from the prolonged contact with the concrete, but he did not stir. She was trembling, clutching his suit jacket like a drowning kitten. He had not foreseen this. How could he have known, that his words would stir up such a violent storm in the girl?! He had merely tried to explain to her calmly and concisely why the crossing of the town line was turning out to be more complicated than he had anticipated. He hadn’t even brushed the issue of the dagger or how he came to be outside of the town lines in the first place, because he wanted to keep Belle out of the story – for now, anyway. He tried to explain about his absent powers, too, without going into great detail. 

He hadn’t really said anything much at all, when suddenly Ivy had snapped, leaped from her chair at the breakfast table and fled outside, slamming the front door so hard that he had been sure it would fall off its hinges. He wasn’t even sure she had heard half of what he had said. Gold had not followed her immediately, bewildered and a little intimidated. It took him a few minutes to catch up with his thoughts and when he finally had decided to go after his daughter to check on her, painful realization had struck him dumb. He had had no idea how to handle Ivy’s fit of rage when he stepped outside and rushed down the steps, but there had been no time to be squeamish. Ivy would seriously harm herself, if he did not act - and act fast. He knew a thing or two about those kinds of outbursts and the results were never pretty. 

When her storm had dissolved into tears, he was out of his depth again. She was so fragile and tiny lying in his lap now. She reminded him of a frail animal, a _hurt_ frail animal. Carefully, he scooped her up in his arms, swaying a little from the extra weight put on his bad leg, and carried her back inside, where he laid her on the couch and crouched down beside her head. She was still sobbing and gasping, but slightly softer now. He did not touch her again, but did not dare leave her side either. He just waited, crooning a Scottish Gaelic lullaby very softly:

_A naoidhean bhig, cluinn mo ghuth_  
Mise ri d' thaobh, O mhaighdean bhàn  
Ar rìbhinn òg, fàs a's faic  
Do thìr, dìleas féin  
A ghrian a's a ghealach, stiùir sinn  
Gu uair ar cliù 's ar glòir  
Naoidhean bhig, ar rìbhinn òg  
Maighdean uasal bhàn 

Ivy’s sobs became fewer and fewer, replaced by sniffles and occasional hiccups, while she listened. She felt so empty now, drained and wrung out, and incredibly bone-weary. Her throat was sore, her eyes stung and there was a burning pain in her right hand and arm that she was too exhausted to investigate further just now. Her head throbbed in accordance with her pulse. Closing her eyes helped a little – so she kept them closed for the time being. Her father stopped humming.

“I-I-“ Ivy breathed, voice hoarse and low “I w-ant M-Mo-m.” 

_Mom_. The last word was nothing more than a faint whisper, she barely said the word at all. Yet there was no mistaking it. Gold let out the breath he didn’t even know he had been holding. 

“I know.” He said quietly. “We’ll figure it out. Your mother is so extraordinarily smart - I firmly believe she’ll find a way before I do.” 

Her watery eyes looked at him now.

“Next to her, you know, I might even appear a little daft sometimes.” Gold continued, chuckling softly “Oh, and a little too quick-tempered, too.” The corner of his mouth twitched.

Ivy tried a small smile, but winced immediately and closed her eyes again.

“How about some water?” Gold’s voice was even softer now, trying not to disturb the silence more than necessary. “And we need to tend to that hand, too.”

Ivy did not open her eyes. She could hear the rustle of her dad’s clothes and his uneven footsteps on the floor, then the sound of water rushing from the tap and more footsteps.

“I’ll put it on the table, for when you want it” said Gold and Ivy heard the clonk of the glass on the wooden surface, then steps moving away. 

She lay in silence for a while. When the awful throbbing had almost vanished at last, she slowly opened her eyes, blinking, and pushed herself up a little with her left arm to reach the water. She gulped it down in one go, the cold very welcome to her sore throat. Startled she noticed that her knuckles were bloody, bruised and swollen and that holding the glass in her right hand actually hurt like hell. She put the glass back down cautiously, becoming aware not only of the pain in her hand, but in her whole arm.

“Ouch…” she breathed, lowering herself back down and closing her eyes once more. She could hear her father’s footsteps again.

“Ivy?” Gold said cautiously and crouched down “Is it alright with you if I check on your arm and hand now?” he asked, hesitating, the first aid kit ready. He waited until she gave a small nod and had sat up a little, then carefully examined the damage. The arm seemed to be alright, but the hand was undoubtedly broken. Gold suspected a boxer’s fracture. He would have to take Ivy to the ER to have that checked out properly. He cleaned the wounds as gingerly as he could, but the antiseptic still made Ivy flinch.

“I’m very sorry about that.” He said sincerely “But we have to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

Ivy clenched her teeth.

“Alright” Gold wrapped a bandage around Ivy’s hand expertly, then handed her an ice pad. “Place your hand above your heart now and hold this to it.” He instructed “That should help with the swelling and some of the pain. I am afraid, I don’t have any painkillers in here” he indicated the first aid kit “so that will have to do until we get to the ER.”

Ivy’s eyes widened “the – ER?!” she spluttered “But it’s really not that bad at all! See.” she said hastily, trying to flex her hand for proof, which made her both wince and yelp simultaneously. 

“Do not move it!” Gold said sternly “That could make it worse.” He helped her up into a full sitting position. “You wait here. I’ll call car service and get your shoes.” 

Feeling pretty stupid and a little embarrassed now, Ivy sat on the couch, her injured hand over her heart and holding the ice pad in place with her left. Jeez, great job, genius, she thought to herself. Maybe, this is why Mom keeps telling you to keep that temper of yours in check, she continued scolding herself in her head, would have come in handy today, some freakin’ self-control, wouldn’t it? Ugh. Ivy groaned. Now she had to go to the hospital – and she hated hospitals. They smelled like death and sanitizer, or the smell from hell, as she called it. Plus, she was scared of needles and the sight - or worse smell – of other people’s blood made her gag. What a glorious way to start the day!

After another few minutes, her father returned. He had already put on his own shoes and coat. “The car will be here soon.” He looked at Ivy on the couch for a moment, wavering, her canvas shoes dangling from his hand. “Well, I guess, I’ll have to help you with these, won’t I?”

Ivy bit her lip. Oh, boy.

With some serious amount of huffing, puffing and blushing on both parts, Gold finally managed to help his teenage daughter into her shoes and tied her shoe laces for her, which made Ivy’s face burn and her cheeks turn an even darker shade of pink. When the doorbell rang shortly after, he also helped her into one of his coats, which was only draped around her right shoulder and slightly too big for her. This only increased the embarrassment further. She looked like a little kid, drowning in that thing! Although, admittedly, it would keep her warm - which was nice.

Gold held the front door open for Ivy, grabbed his cane and then shut it on his way out. A black Sedan was waiting for them. After he had opened the car’s door for the girl and helped her in, Gold got in behind her. He hoped that morning rush hour wouldn’t be as bad as it had been yesterday. He’d rather they reached Morgan Stanley Children's Hospital sooner than later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ###### Excerpt from writing soundtrack:
>
>>   
>  Crawling -Linkin Park  
> I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace  
> Papercut - Linkin Park  
> Hit The Floor - Linkin Park  
> Blurry - Puddle Of Mud  
> Noble Maiden Fair (A Mhaighdean Bhàn Uasal) - Emma Thompson & Peigi Barker  
> 


	8. Pediatrics

### Chapter 8: Pediatrics 

They had gotten to 166th Street and Broadway fairly quickly – despite morning traffic. Gold and Ivy had entered the Cohen Pediatric Emergency Department at street level, crossed the main lobby and taken one of the glass elevators to the basement. The lower-level waiting area consisted of smaller seating nooks, which had intimate reading areas and also offered various electronic entertainment devices to pass the time. The whole place was very bright and colorful, with vivid floor-to-ceiling illustrations and the light shining in through the glass storefront. While Gold struggled with one of the self-registration kiosks, where parents of patients with non-urgent conditions could register their children and provide basic information about symptoms and medical history, Ivy had strolled over to the Kinect play wall to watch some of the other kids play. 

They did not have to wait long. After about twenty minutes , they were led into one of the private triage rooms, Ivy’s arm and hand were examined and she was sent to radiology with one of the nurses, while Gold remained in the triage room, waiting. When Ivy had returned, they had been told that another doctor would be with them shortly – as soon as the images would be ready. So they sat, waiting. Gold bounced his leg nervously and fidgeted with his ring. Ivy wondered, assuming that it must be his wedding ring from its position on his right hand, why he was still wearing it. She had never seen her mother wear a ring. Thinking, she realized, however, that she did not know if her parents ever actually had gotten a divorce. Maybe they were still married? - Legally, anyway. Just when she had summoned the courage to ask her father this, the door opened and a woman walked in.

“Good morning, my name is Dr. Martin.” She said, checking her chart “and you must be Mr. Gold and Ivy.” She smiled brightly at Ivy and shook Gold’s hand. 

Gold and Ivy exchanged a quick look and Ivy had to stifle a laugh. This doctor was quite a sight. Dr. Martin was rather short, blonde and smiling constantly. She wore a white lab coat, a pink pen and a couple of lollipops sticking out of the breast pocket, and light pink scrubs underneath. Her hair was in pigtails. When she came closer to examine Ivy’s hand, Ivy noticed that her trainers lit up with every step that she took and that her nails were painted with glittery, rainbow-colored polish. Oh, boy. 

“You are very lucky, Ivy” Dr. Martin said, the radiant smile still plastered on her face. Her teeth were extremely straight and pearly white. Ivy dubbed her pediatrics Barbie in her head. “Your dad did an excellent job on the first aid. The swelling is almost gone, I see.” She smiled at Gold, who turned slightly pink in the face, then turned her attention back to Ivy.

“The fracture isn’t complicated, so we won’t have to operate. But you will have to wear a cast for a couple of weeks. We’ll put on an ulnar gutter cast, which will immobilize the area and allow the fracture to heal.” She looked around at both of them “Do you have any questions before we start?”

When neither Ivy nor Gold asked anything, Dr. Martin got out the supplies, cleaned and dried Ivy’s hand and arm and prepared the cast. She carefully measured, applied, cut and folded an ulnar gutter stockinette, which taped together Ivy’s ring and small finger, and then added padding. 

“The cast is going to be fiberglass, so you can pick a color.” She told Ivy in a bubbly voice “We have really cool choices. Some have glitter.” She smiled at Ivy as though in her opinion a glittering cast was something everyone should want to have. Dr. Martin rummaged in one of the drawers, then pulled out a color palette and held it out for Ivy to choose from.

“Um” Ivy hesitated. “Maybe blue then?” She pointed at the chart with her left hand “The light blue without the glitter.”

Dr. Martin looked a little disappointed at her lack of glitter enthusiasm, but rallied in a heartbeat and got the desired color from the cabinet behind her, her smile back in place. “Excellent choice.” She said brightly, sitting back down.

Ivy watched intently as she wrapped the fiberglass material circumferentially, with each roll overlapping the previous layer. Finally, the stockinette and padding were folded back before Dr. Martin applied the final layer. 

“There, all done.” She said, admiring her work. “You'll need to keep it from getting wet and check back with me in two weeks.” She said to both father and daughter. “If there is any swelling or unusual pain or if you have any other trouble, come in and see me immediately, alright?” 

She stood up and shook Ivy’s left and Gold’s right hand, then paused, looking at the chart again. “Oh, one little thing before you go” she said to Gold, who had stood up too. “Some information is missing from the patient form. Would you be so kind to add it and take the form to the welcome desk, so they can process it?” 

Gold gulped and nodded, leaving the room looking rather sheepish. There was a reason that the information had been missing in the first place, which was, that he simply did not have it. He did not know Ivy’s exact birthdate (having entered a bogus one on the kiosk earlier, which would make her 15 years old) or her blood type or whether she had ever been hospitalized before. He didn’t even know if she was allergic to anything.

“I should go and help my dad. He never remembers any of that stuff.” Ivy said, trying to sound casually annoyed, but Dr. Martin held her back saying “The form isn’t that important. I just wanted to talk to you for a minute, Ivy.” Ivy froze in her tracks and looked at her. Dr. Martin had stopped smiling. 

“Is everything okay at home, Ivy?” she asked, a concerned look etched on her face. 

“Everything’s fine.” Ivy said hastily, but did not meet the doctor’s eyes.

“It’s just, you look a little through the mill and we don’t get boxer fractures on your age group that often.” The pediatrician said slowly. “Are you sure that everything is alright?”

Ivy nodded. 

There was a short pause. 

Apparently, the doctor chose to believe her, for she continued in a much lighter tone: “You know, you might consider kick boxing or jiu-jitsu or some other kind of martial arts.” She said conversationally “Helped me with my anger issues when I was your age.” 

Ivy gaped at her, taken aback. She tried to imagine Dr. Martin kick boxing, which was a weird mental image to have – but then again, Barbie was supposed to be able to be and do anything. So why not a kickboxing pediatrician Barbie? Ivy shrugged.

At this moment, Dr. Martin’s beeper went off. She looked at it, her face worried, then said “Ivy, I’m really sorry, but I need to get this. We’ll talk some more in two weeks. Please wait here, until your dad is back, okay?” and with that she rushed out of the door, sneakers blinking furiously, leaving Ivy to sit on the gurney by herself.

Outside three ambulances were fast approaching Morgan Stanley’s. All three turned left into the ambulance bay, at which the red car that had been tagging along behind them became visible again. It did not turn left.

“See, it’s not her.” Ruby said, slowing down “Can we now stop with the manic speed and the ignoring all the traffic lights?” She looked at her friend on the passenger seat. 

Belle was clutching the compass in her hand, looking very pale. She did not tear her gaze away from the little needle. “I don’t understand…” she said hesitantly. Ever since the ambulances had appeared in front of them, the compass had pointed to wherever they had been going and now it had stopped – pointing straight ahead whilst they had gone left. Or, did it? No, it was pointing left now, just one turn further. That would still be … _the hospital_. 

“Stop!” Belle exclaimed suddenly, causing Ruby to hit the brakes rather abruptly. Several cars behind them honked. The Camaro hadn’t even come to a full halt yet, when Belle yanked her door open and jumped out, running towards the building.

“You’re kidding me.” Ruby muttered under her breath, turning left and stopping next to the entrance, a young man already hurrying towards her and the car. She handed over her keys to the valet after having looked him up and down and then hurried to those doors she had seen Belle vanish through a few moments before. 

Belle was standing in the main lobby, compass held to her face and frowning. Ruby stopped beside her. 

“Hey, was that really necessary?” she asked, panting slightly.

“I can’t figure it out.” It was obvious that Belle hadn’t heard a word of what Ruby had said. “Look, it is pointing… backwards now?!” she continued, confused and agitated, holding the compass out for Ruby to see.

They both looked at the quivering needle for a few seconds. Ruby then raised her head and looked around. “Down, it must mean down.” She said slowly.

“Down?” Belle asked, still confused. Then she spotted the stair signs on the opposite wall and without warning, she was running again, flying down the stairs to the lower level, with Ruby at her heels.

They rushed past a desk and past various groups of waiting people. Ruby noticed that none of the staff so much as looked up as they sped past. Apparently, the sight of deranged parents sprinting down the halls was nothing new to them. 

Belle’s heart was hammering inside her chest. She kept searching the faces she passed for her daughter’s but none of them were familiar. What if something terrible had happened to Ivy, she thought, panic bubbling inside her. She could be hurt, severely injured even. This was a hospital after all. Where was she?! Belle glanced down again, while running, nearly bumping into a nurse. The needle still pointed ahead. 

Ivy stood in the doorway of the triage room, peering out to see whether she could spot her father anywhere. She took a few steps into the hallway. There was no sign of him. Instead, she spotted someone else. Someone speeding towards her, brown hair flying, and looking extremely anxious. Her jaw dropped. 

“Mom?” she gasped as the figure almost crashed into her. “How…?”

“Baby, baby are you okay?” her mother asked, voice quivering, her trembling hands all over Ivy and her piercing blue eyes searching her face.

“Uh-huh.” Ivy managed, before her mother pulled her into a very tight hug. Ivy wrapped her arms around her, hugging back. She was almost as tall as Belle was now, but still buried her face against her mother’s shoulder, breathing in deeply and closing her eyes. The smell was instantly familiar, warm, soft and somewhat flowery. Ivy listened to her mother’s heartbeat and relaxed to the warmth of the embrace. She felt her mother’s hand stroking her hair gently.

“What happened?” her mom whispered against her ear, their cheeks touching “How did you…?” 

Ivy felt the tears on her mom’s face and tightened the hug without paying attention to her hand. A flash of pain shot through her arm, right up to her shoulder. She drew in a sharp breath. Her mother immediately let go of her and seemed to only now notice her cast. 

“Ivy, what happened to your arm?” There was alarm in her voice.

“I’m fine, Mom, it’s nothing.” Ivy said and swiped her sleeve across her eyes.

“That is not nothing. You’re hurt” her mom looked at her teary-eyed, taking hold of her hands tentatively. “Oh baby, I am so so sorry.” 

Ivy didn’t understand. Why was her mother apologizing to her, she wondered, when it had been her own temper that had gotten her hand injured? If she hadn’t run away, none of it would have happened in the first place. She bit her lower lip, eyes downcast. 

“I shouldn’t have run.” She said meekly.

Her mom cupped Ivy’s face in her soft hands, looking at her “No, I shouldn’t have yelled.” She then showered Ivy’s face in kisses, making her squirm in protest. 

“Mom!” Ivy squealed slightly put out, and tried to wriggle herself out, but before she could say or do anything else, her mother had pulled her into another hug, chortling softly. Ivy groaned. Her mother seemed to have lost her mind completely. 

“Jeez, have you gone mad, or something?” Ivy breathed against her shoulder, rolling her eyes. 

“Are you calling your mother insane, _coquinette_?” Her mom asked in mock indignation “Oh, you’ll see.” And without warning, she began tickling Ivy’s sides, making Ivy shriek with laughter and jump back a little, breaking the embrace.

“No fair!” Ivy huffed, still giggling. “You can’t just…” She looked up at her mother’s face, but Belle was not laughing anymore. “Mom?” Ivy tried again, taking a step back towards her. She didn’t understand why her mother had suddenly frozen up. Her mouth was slightly open, body unmoving, and color draining from her face as she stared wide-eyed over Ivy’s shoulder.

A loud clonking noise behind her made Ivy spin around. Her father was standing a few feet from them, clutching some papers. He had just dropped his cane.


	9. Yesterday’s Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for making you wait and sorry (not sorry) for the previous cliffhanger. Two reasons:  
> 1.) I am evil  
> 2.) I deleted parts of the story that I wasn't happy with and had to rewrite others, which also changed the order things were supposed to be going in (in other words: from here on out this story is going to be a mess and I will make up sh*t as I go. Just FYI).

###  Chapter 9: Yesterday’s Scars 

It seemed as if the world had stopped. Belle stood, speech- and motionless. The wind had been knocked right out of her. Him, it was _him_. Time had slowed down, everything appeared surreal. She did not understand. What was he doing here? How had he come to be here?  
For a fleeting moment she felt the crazy urge to fly into his arms, even after the distance of all those years, but she kept herself from acting on the impulse. 

It hurt just to see his face. His gaze seemed to have drawn out all the blood that she felt had drained from her face so fast that she was sure it must have left her looking like a ghost. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest. The way he was looking at her now, his doleful expression and pleading eyes, made every intake of breath sheer agony. All the half-forgotten scars on her heart bursting open at once, her body reacted before her mind did. The room began to spin, making her feel weak and dizzy. Belle looked at the floor to steady herself, but the grey linoleum appeared strangely uneven, rocking and swaying beneath her feet as if they had been out on the wildest tempest-tossed sea rather than in a steady concrete building. She swallowed back the acid taste in her mouth, tingling sensations in her arms and legs. When she looked back up, Ivy was by her side and saying something to her that she could not hear properly over all the ringing noise in her ears. She closed her eyes, breathing in and out slowly and intently to make the spinning sensation go away. 

Had it really been almost sixteen years, Belle wondered, because suddenly it did not feel like that anymore at all. She remembered the dreadful feeling of having ripped off the fragile camouflage that had covered their young marriage and exposing the lies and deceit that had been at the center of it, exposing it for the lie it had been, really – She remembered very very clearly. Oh, she had been so angry then. Angry with herself mostly - for having chosen to close her eyes to his wrongdoings as long as she had and for clinging to the silly hope that he would stick to his word and honor his promises and surely, surely any moment now would change course. He hadn’t. So she had made him – the only way she had known how. In her mind's eye she saw the town line and herself clutching the dagger. Rumple’s agonized face flashed before her eyes, but she pushed the unbidden image back to the back of her mind. No, she would not go there. She needed to clear her head, keep it level now. Steeling her heart against the dull ache in her chest and bracing herself for what she was about to do, she took a few controlled steps towards her former love, towards the estranged husband she thought she had banished from her life for good. He did not move. He didn't blink. Belle wasn't sure if he was even breathing or holding his breath. 

She was so close to him now that she could have easily reached out for him. She could easily have grabbed his shoulders. She could have hugged him and stroked his hair, if she had wanted to. Instead, she just stood, face hard and eyes unblinking. The familiar smell of his cologne and aftershave did nothing for her now. 

“Rumplestiltskin.” She raised her chin.

He struggled to stand up a little straighter, his cane still on the floor between them, his hand pumping over his heart. “B-elle.”

“I see you have met our daughter.” Belle continued “Did you ever wonder however I came to pick her name?”

He opened his mouth hesitantly to answer “I-“

“The old Druids prized the ivy plant as a symbol for tenacity and determination” she looked directly into his eyes “ivy can grow, spread and flourish under many conditions - cultivated land or wasteland, in light or near darkness, fertile soil or upon rubble and stones. It will push its way through tiny cracks and crevices to reach the light and is strong and difficult to destroy.” Belle put her hands on her hips “She is beautiful and strong now -which is why you don’t get to be near her ever again from here on out. Do you hear me, Rumple?!” her face was inches from his now “I won’t take chances with you no more. You don’t get to corrupt her. You don’t get to hurt her. I won’t allow it.”

Gold did not challenge her on this, but hung his head, shoulders slumped. 

Belle stopped short at his lack of comeback. She had expected him to fight her on this, to retort some way or other, not to admit defeat instantly. By lack of counteraction he seemed to be silently agreeing to her words, validating their veracity. His unwillingness to front her ruffled Belle, but she did not quite understand why. She took a step back from him, her confusion briefly visible on her face. “Good then” She turned on her heels, walking back to where Ivy and Ruby stood, rooted to the spot. She did not turn back around again, but felt his gaze on her back, the hair on her neck prickling.

“Whoa there …” Ruby gaped at her. She had her arm around Ivy.

Belle exhaled. The relief she had hoped for did not come. Neither the tightness in her chest nor the stabbing pain would ease. Instead she felt a sudden coldness draw in towards her center from her hands and feet. With the coldness came the sadness, but she chose to ignore it. There was no reason to be sad or worried anymore. She had found Ivy and she would take her home as soon as the curse would allow it. Everything would be alright.

Ivy shrugged her Godmother’s arm off “Mom, no, I don’t want –“ 

“Listen, baby, you don’t understand.” Belle placed her hands on Ivy’s shoulders. No. If she had to be bad cop to protect Ivy – then that was what she would be. She would not let Rumple and his unhealthy obsession with magic and power anywhere near her daughter. God only knew what he had already told her. This was in Ivy’s best interest – even if she did not understand it or agree with her yet. Ever since she had been little, Ivy had always seemed a little too attracted to the sinister and the magical. Time with Rumple would surely only feed that unhealthy fascination.

“But-“Ivy did not look at her, but gazed right over her shoulder. She bit her lip. 

Belle tightened her grip and touched foreheads, at which Ivy shifted her attention. “I know this must be confusing, but please, I am asking you to trust me on this. I don’t want you to get hurt –“

Ivy frowned, her lip quivering “He wouldn't hurt me, Mom!”

Belle smiled sadly. “Please. Let’s just go now.” 

Ivy did not look convinced. She withdrew slightly, nibbling her lip, her expression troubled. She turned over her shoulder to look at Ruby.

Ruby nodded encouragingly “It’s better if we go now, kid.”

Belle held her breath. Ivy sighed and turned to face her again. “Okay, but I need to get my stuff.”

Belle smiled at her daughter then looked around “Did you leave it in there?” she asked, nodding towards the triage room door.

Ivy shook her head. “No, no, I mean…” she hesitated “from his place.”

Belle felt like someone had just punched her in the stomach. She what now? She let her hands slide off Ivy’s shoulders. They hung loosely at her sides. 

“My backpack is there.” Ivy gestured with her hands “My books.”

Belle buried her face in her hands for a moment. She’d rather not think about why Ivy’s belongings were at his place. They just had to get them, that was all. Maybe they would do that tomorrow rather than today? She felt pretty exhausted all of a sudden. It was like the air was getting thinner in the hallway, making her drowsy. She could hardly think straight in this stuffiness. She really needed some fresh air. 

“We’ll pick them up tomorrow.” She said.

“But –“ 

Belle looked at Ruby for backing. Her legs would not support her weight much longer. Why was this so draining? 

“What your mom said, pup. Leaving now” Ruby put her hand on Ivy’s back in a way to guide her forward in the general direction of the stairs. Belle saw Ivy exchange a look with her father as she and Ruby walked past him. He was still frozen in place, unmoving. Belle walked behind her friend and daughter, choosing to bow her head and avert her eyes. Tears were welling up in them and she did not want him to see. She picked up her pace, getting ahead of the others and almost running up the first flight of stairs. 

On the first landing, Ivy suddenly stopped. “Wait! I forgot something.” She sprinted back down the stairs and through the waiting area and purposefully crashed into her father, who had picked up his cane and had turned sideways, almost knocking him over. The cane slithered across the smooth floor. Ivy hugged him around the neck, resting her head on his shoulder. Belle watched as Rumple cautiously placed a hand on Ivy’s back and began rubbing it softly. Belle felt bands of pain digging into her heart at the sight, a quiet sob escaping from her lips. The tears spilled down her cheeks now, but silently. She didn't even understand why she was crying – was it for him, or Ivy, or the two of them, or for herself? She did not know. 

It was then that Rumple looked up. It was as though an electric shock went through her entire body the exact moment Rumple’s eyes met hers. He was actually looking at her this time, his dark eyes looking right through her and into her very core. His intense gaze seemed to flay off a much needed layer of skin, leaving her feeling painfully raw and vulnerable, totally exposed. Belle did not have it in her to break eye contact. She just could not turn away. 

It was he who broke the connection first by looking down at Ivy. He gently touched Ivy’s cheek to get her to look up at him. They talked. Belle could not make out what they were saying from her position on the landing, she just watched as Rumple lifted their daughter’s chin up when they were done and how she let go of him and turned back around. He gave her a soft push. Belle wiped the back of her hand across her face.

Hesitantly Ivy stumbled back towards them. Belle noticed that she did not make eye contact with either her or Ruby, as far as she could tell. When Ivy had reached them, Belle pulled her into a wordless hug to signal that she was not cross with her. “Ready to go now?” she whispered, her face buried in Ivy’s silky fair hair. Her daughter nodded against her chest. 

Belle raised her head and rested her chin on top of her daughter’s head. She and Rumple locked eyes again from across the room, causing her heart to flutter unexpectedly. She bit her lower lip. No.


	10. Today's Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This chapter is only a little companion piece to the previous one)

### Chapter 10: Today’s Wounds

He stood frozen and waiting. He dared not approach her. _His beautiful Belle._ He could almost not believe that it was really her standing only feet away from him now. How often he had imagined this moment of finally seeing her again and hoping against hope that one day this day would come. She was even more beautiful than he had remembered her, her sapphire eyes still her most prominent feature. Her dark brown hair fell in soft waves, longer than he recalled. Belle was wearing a black blouse, purple skirt and grape platform pumps. She was a whole lot thinner than he remembered her though, which worried him and he did not like at all. He gazed at her, an unspoken plea in his eyes. If only she would give him a chance to explain, to explain it all.

Rumple studied his wife’s face and her movements. She was incredibly pale and swaying where she stood. He knew that his unexpected appearance must have come as a great shock to her. Ever since Ivy had turned up on his doorstep he had had time to prepare for the possibility that he would see her mother again - and soon. Therefore, he wasn't nearly as shaken by this rather sudden encounter as Belle appeared to be. 

When she walked towards him, he kept perfectly still, afraid that any sudden movements would scare her away. His own heartbeat was drumming in his ears.

“Rumplestiltskin.” 

Her speaking his name was both pleasant and painful and made him go weak in the knees. He tried to stand up straighter to keep himself from sinking to the floor. 

“B-elle.” He breathed and reached out for her cheek on instinct, but caught himself early enough to place his hand over his own heart instead. He longed to caress her porcelain face and hug her close to make things alright, but her cold facial expression left no doubt that she would not permit it.

“I see you have met our daughter. Did you ever wonder however I came to pick her name?”

He blinked confusedly. _Ivy_. No, he hadn't even thought about that at all. The ivy plant was usually a symbol of eternity and immortality, with strong connotations of femininity and fidelity. The way that ivy clung and bound also made it a powerful symbol of faithful friendship or …. _everlasting love_. But surely that could not have been what Belle had meant? Hopeful, he looked up at her again, his heart beating faster. “I-“

But Belle would not let him speak, her own words flying from her mouth quickly and almost tumbling over one another as she drew closer. 

“The old Druids prized the ivy plant as a symbol for tenacity and determination. Ivy can grow, spread and flourish under many conditions - cultivated land or wasteland, in light or near darkness, fertile soil or upon rubble and stones. It will push its way through tiny cracks and crevices to reach the light and is strong and difficult to destroy.”

Gold could hear the little tremble to her voice and the agitation. She was forcing the words past her lips and forcing herself to look him directly in the eyes, which made them both uncomfortable. This wasn't like Belle. 

“She is beautiful and strong now -which is why you don’t get to be near her ever again from here on out. Do you hear me, Rumple?! I won’t take chances with you no more. You don’t get to corrupt her. You don’t get to hurt her. I won’t allow it.”

Her face was inches from his now, her hot breath on his skin. She was so angry that he did not dare speak. Her cold fury came as surprise to him. He had not expected this. It was like they were picking up seamlessly were they had left off so many years ago. He felt like they were still at the town line somehow. Only this time he listened without interrupting. He had always listened to what she had had to say, but right now he listened for more than her words. He tried to listen beyond what she was saying to hear what she was not. This was about Ivy, but simultaneously it wasn't - he was sure of that. This was about the two of them. The hurt and rage so apparent in Belle’s voice and demeanor could only partially hide the mixed signals he was getting from her. He just wished that she would keep the girl out of this. Ivy did not deserve to get mixed up in the mess he had made. He hung his head, thinking. But maybe it was already too late for that. Belle and Ivy already had had to pay for his mistakes and it looked like they would continue to pay. Maybe Belle was right, maybe it was better if he kept his distance. 

“Good then” She turned on her heels now and walked back to where their daughter was standing. Gold wanted to say something as he watched her go, but he did not get the words out. He did not know what to say – to either of them. He wanted to make it up to them, but he did not know how. 

Ivy looked at him over her mother’s shoulders then, fire in her eyes. Gold smiled at her weakly. It would be alright. He stood and watched as Belle, Ivy and Ruby talked, but he couldn’t catch most of their exchange. The only thing apparent to him now was that Ivy did not agree with Belle. He wasn't sure how that made him feel. The idea that his daughter might actually like him and want to spend time with him, made him strangely happy, but he also did not want to drive a wedge between daughter and mother by insisting on his paternal rights. He was well aware that he actually had those. Given that he and Belle were still legally married to one another, Ivy was half his -both biologically and legally.

When the three women passed him, he did not try to stop them. Belle sprinted past him without even looking at him again, hiding her face behind curtains of her hair. He wanted to reach out and hold her back by her arm, but thought better of it. It wouldn’t be of any use to argue with Belle any further now. She could be very stubborn if she wanted to be and their causing even more of a scene in the ED of a pediatric hospital would not do anyone any good.

Wobbly on his legs he bent down and finally picked up his cane again, the papers remaining forgotten on the floor. He had almost turned to leave towards the stairs and elevator too, when his cane was knocked out of his grip again as a tiny blonde whirlwind flung her arms around his neck unexpectedly and rested her head on his shoulder. He slowly rubbed Ivy’s back. Gold felt his daughter’s heart flutter inside her chest, like a little trapped bird. 

He looked up, amazed. He could see Belle and Ruby on the stairs, waiting. His eyes found Belle’s tear-stained face and he tried to put what he was feeling into his piercing glance. If only she understood that he wanted nothing more, but to make things right. He just wanted a chance to talk. A chance to get to say he was sorry. If only he could make Belle see that he had always loved her, that she had always been the most important person in his life. He had done it all for her. He had wanted to be free _with_ her! 

When Ivy stirred against his chest, he looked down. He stroked her cheek to get her attention. As touched as he was, she still had to go with her mother. That would be best for all of them - for now anyway. 

Ivy raised her head “I don’t wanna go.” She tightened her grip around his neck “What if I never see you again?”

“Oh, you will. Don’t worry.” 

“She doesn't want me to.” Ivy looked at him with her eyes wide.

“Yes, she does.” He said, reassuringly. “Give her some time.”

Ivy looked doubtful.

“She needs you right now.” Gold said.

“But-“

“Ivy, you know where I am.” He gave her a meaningful look. 

She looked up at him, mouth slightly open, arching her brow. Then she smirked and let go of him.

He lifted her chin up “We’ll figure it out. Now, go.” 

He watched her go and embrace Belle. Ivy was like a little dove flying back and forth between the two of them, he thought. Seemingly the last and yet also the strongest connection he and Belle still shared. Gold found his wife’s face again. They were literally bound by vines of ivy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I go: a huge thank you to all the people reading and leaving kudos and lovely comments (which make my day!)! You guys rock :)


	11. We All Scream for Ice-cream

### Chapter 11: We All Scream for Ice-cream 

Granny’s was packed with people eating their usual Saturday lunch and chatting. Neal, Alex and Phil sat outside enjoying the last rays of sunshine and discussing developments – or the lack thereof. 

“I mean, how cool would that be? If we could leave?!” Alex flipped her long blonde hair back. “Think of all the places we could go!” 

“Like where?” Phil shrugged. “And that’s _if_ they manage to break the curse in first place, mind you. Nobody’s found anything.”

Philip was nearly two years younger than Alex and almost a whole head shorter. He had brown hair and light blue eyes and was a little too pretty for a guy – in Alex’s opinion. Guys should not be pretty. Handsome, yes, but not pretty. She turned to look at Neal. He and Phil were almost the same age, but Neal looked older than sixteen. He was his dashing father in miniature, muscular, broad-shouldered and good-looking. She smiled at him.

“I don’t know, anywhere!” Alex said gesturing with her hands. “Don’t you two hate being stuck here all the time? It’s not like there is much to do around here …” She played with a strand of her hair. “Seriously, Ivy did the right thing ditching this dunghill.” 

“Did she tell any of you?” Neal looked around at his friends, who shook their heads.

“Nah, but it was bound to happen. Her Mom is hard-ass.” Alex took a sip of her coffee and tried not to grimace. How all the adults seemed to like that awful brewage was beyond her, but she had decided that she would like it too (or pretend to) from now on. After all, she’d turn eighteen soon.

“Belle’s not that bad.” Said Neal who had spent lots of time over at Ivy’s.

“Pshh, can you say overprotective and overbearing?” Alex rolled her eyes. “Miss French is worse than _my_ mom – and that’s saying something.” She leaned back in her seat and stretched her arms “I can’t wait to be shot of this place.” 

“I hope Ivy’s okay, though.” Phil played with his coke can nervously.

Neal yawned and cracked his knuckles. “She’s not stupid. She’s fine.” 

“Yeah, remind me to write her a formal thank you note when she gets back. If it wasn't for her, we’d all be stuck here forever.” Alex laughed at Phil’s worried expression and creased forehead “Oh God, Phil, lighten up!” Philip was always worried about something or other. He was always the rational and responsible one, too. Alex had no idea, how he and Neal could be friends at all. Neal came up with all the fun stuff they did and Phil just tagged along, cautioning and fretting. He wasn’t a snitch, though.

Neal’s phone buzzed on the table. He looked at it, his face splitting into a wide smile. “My sister. She wants me to meet her at the old ice-cream parlor right now.” He grinned at Alex and Phil. “She says to bring you two and not to tell the parents.” 

Neal slid the phone in his jeans pocket, emptied the rest of his coke in one gulp and got to his feet. 

Alex copied him. “Let’s go then.” 

They both looked around at Phil, who had stood up too, but didn't look convinced. “If that’s anything like last time, my dad’s going to kill me.”

“Oh, come on! “ Alex and Neal exclaimed in unison.

“You two will be the death of me!” Phil said, but followed them down the street nevertheless. 

When they reached the parlor, the door was open and a few loose boards leaned against the wall. Cautiously Neal and his friends entered the building. The only light was coming from the open door since the windows were still boarded up. The parlor had been disconnected years ago, so there was no electricity and no other light sources. 

Neal burst out laughing as soon as he had spotted his older sister on the floor. Emma sat cross-legged, a huge ice-cream container in her lap. “Hey kiddo, there you are. Everyone, grab a spoon and help me with these.” She pointed at a huge deep freeze in the corner.

“Wasn't this place shut down?” Neal asked, taking the plastic spoons that Emma held out and handing one each to Alex and Phil.

“Yup” Emma scooped another spoonful of rocky road into her mouth.

“Then why is there still ice-cream?” Phil inspected the deep freeze’s contents. “Shouldn’t it have melted? This thing isn’t even on.”

“Before we boarded the place up, it was searched. There was no ice-cream.” Emma shrugged. “This stuff seems to be new. Found it a few hours ago.” She swallowed. “It must’ve just appeared for some reason. Definitely wasn't there before.”

Neal dove into the freezer and dug out a container labelled ‘Chocolate Peanut Butter’ then sat down on the floor across from Emma, ripping the lid off and taking a spoonful. “Not bad!” he exclaimed, digging in. “When Mom finds out you are making me eat cursed ice-cream that’s older than I am, she’s going to kill you.”

Emma laughed. “That’s why you are not telling her.” She wagged her own spoon at her baby brother “Besides, who said anything about making you? As far as I am concerned, you and your friends just showed up here and decided to join me of your own accord – despite me advising you guys against it.” Emma raised her eyebrows. 

“Fair enough.” Neal shrugged “Man, this stuff is good.”

Alex and Phil, who had gotten out the almond and raspberry flavors and sat down beside Neal, nodded in agreement. 

“Here, try this one.” Alex held out her spoon for Neal, who passed her his container in return.

“Why exactly are we eating all this?” Phil asked, pausing the scooping motion and pointing at the containers with his spoon.

“Because at the bottom of each container should be one of these.” Emma pulled something out of her jacket pocket and held it out for the teenagers to see. On her palm rested two shiny silver pearls the size of marbles.

“Ooh, pretty.” Alex touched one with her index finger. “What are they?”

“No idea.” Emma shrugged, putting them back into her pocket. “Found the first by accident and then tried another flavor to see if there were more.”

“But you think they could help break the curse and get Ivy back home, right?” Phil asked, hopeful “That’s why you asked us to help, didn’t you?” he shoveled more raspberry sorbet in his mouth eagerly, swallowing hard and then grimaced.

“Brain freeze!” Neal and Alex laughed and then looked at each other, locking pinkies “Jinxed.”

“Easy there, tiger” Emma was chuckling too. “Yes, I hope that there is a connection to Ingrid and her spell.” 

“How do you know the ice-cream is not dangerous?” Alex eyed the container in front of her with sudden apprehension. “Maybe it’s cursed too?”

“Don’t think so. I don’t get any dark vibes from this stuff.” Emma shrugged “Plus, this is my third flavor already. Would have dropped dead before now if anything was wrong with it.” As if to prove it, she dug her spoon in once more. 

“Couldn't we just empty the containers without eating the ice-cream? You know, to get to the pearls faster?” Phil’s speech was almost incoherent, because of all the sorbet in his mouth.

Emma shook her head “Nah, tried that, didn't work. You have to eat it to get to the silver marbles.”

“So they are magic!?” Alex put her spoon down. “What if this stuff is doing something funny to us and we just don’t realize it?”

“You don’t have to eat it, if you don’t want to.” Neal took the almond flavor from her “no one is forcing you, you know?!” 

Alex blushed. “That’s not what I meant.”

Emma kicked Neal’s right shoe with her foot. “Hey, dork, leave her be. That’s her decision.”

“Okay.” Neal pushed the ice-cream back towards Alex, who did not resume eating it. She looked a little torn. “But since when do you go all _Phil_ on things?!” he shot his friend a disapproving look.

“Neal.” Emma looked at her brother pointedly. “Shut up.”

Neal glowered at her, but did not say anything else.

“Got one!” Phil, apparently oblivious to the tension in the room, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and held up one of the pearls. He proudly handed it over to Emma, who pocketed it. 

Everyone laughed at the delighted look on Phil’s face. 

“Now that’s the spirit” Emma grinned. “Care for another flavor?” She got up and strolled to the freezer. “We've got chocolate, banana, black forest, Turkish delight, caramel, strawberry and fudge brownie left” she listed.

“Fudge brownie, please.” Phil said determined, clutching his spoon like a weapon.

“Coming right up” Emma dove into the freezer and got the desired flavor plus the Turkish delight for herself.

On her way back she peered into Neal’s container. “Now I am disappointed, brother dearest.” She teased sitting back down. “You’re slower than I thought. You sick?”

Neal crossed his arms “Had an opulent lunch, if you must know” he said loftily. “But I can take you any time.” He got up, got the caramel flavor from the freezer and took the lid off “Now we’re on even footing.” He looked around at Phil and Emma “Race you for it. Last one to finish is a mule.”

“I’ll be ref.” piped up Alex, scrambling to get to the space between them. “Okay, ready, set, go!”

Henry was driving down Main Street at walking speed when he noticed that the ice cream parlor door was open. He stopped, thinking. Had anyone been assigned the parlor to search recently, he wondered. He wasn't sure. Better safe than sorry, he figured and parked the car to investigate further. As he walked closer, he could hear people talking inside and roaring with laughter and – was that a donkey braying? He stuck his head in the door and had to choke laughter.

There sat Neal, Alex and Phil amidst what looked like various ice-cream containers on the floor and were falling about laughing and opposite them, Henry had to do a double take, sat a mule with very light fur. Before he could do more than blink however, there was a popping sound and in the mule’s place appeared Emma shaking with a fit of the giggles and turning back into a violently braying animal the next second. 

Wiping the smirk off his face, Henry entered, making the teenagers jump “Anyone care to explain what is going on in here?”

Everyone just laughed harder – or brayed, respectively. 

“What shenanigans is everyone here up to?” he tried again, reminding himself horribly of his other mother “What is all this nonsense?”

“Man, you've got to see this” howled Neal from the floor “Oh, man. She’s a … freaking mule!” He had tears in his eyes and could not get up, laughing and hiccuping helplessly – like a turtle on its back.

“I am seeing it alright – but what am I seeing exactly?” Henry raised his eyebrows, turning to look at Emma “Mom?”

“Ah, sorry, kid, just the ice-cream –“ Emma burst into fur again. Henry waited. “I don’t know what it did. I can’t stop it at the mo-“ the rest of the sentence was drowned by braying and the Emma mule sat sheepishly, looking up at her son apologetically. 

Alex shrieked with laughter and covered her very red face in her hands, rocking back and forth. Even Phil was laughing still, barking between gasps for air.

Henry’s lip twitched. He did not know how much longer he would be able to resist the temptation of joining in. He had to save his face in front of the teens, though. They gave him enough trouble with their stupid pranks as it was and would lose the last shreds of respect for him if he lost it now. “Okay, I am calling Mom. She’ll sort this out.” Henry got the phone out of his uniform.

“No, wait, kid. She’s going to kill –“ Emma got to her feet and stood on four hooves for roughly twenty seconds. “What the hell, this has to stop –“

Henry looked at the mulefied Emma, his fingers hovering over the buttons, the corner of his mouth turning upwards “I can always call grandma, if that’s what you prefer. I don’t think she can help much with the magic problem, though.” He looked pensive.

“Gods no! She’s going to have my hea-“ 

Could a mule look annoyed, Henry wondered “Okay, calling Mom then.” Dialing he added “and you lot stay put too.” He fixed the teenagers on the floor. 

Further south someone else had broken out the ice-cream as well. Contradictory to habit, Gold had wandered to the freshly stocked fridge and opened up the pint of cookie dough ice-cream that he had bought for his daughter. The idea of half-baked dough in his ice-cream repulsed him a little, but Ivy had insisted that this flavor was in fact the best there was and he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Besides, what else would he do with all the food now, but eat it himself? With ice-cream and spoon in hand he sat down in his armchair. Usually his favorite spot in the house, he couldn't get quite comfortable today. He had never noticed how quiet the house was before. He shifted in his position and gingerly scooped up half a spoon of ice-cream. The taste was a bit strange, but not at all unenjoyable, he decided. He turned in his seat, to tell Ivy this, only to realize that she was no longer reading her novels outstretched on his sofa. Funny, he thought bitterly, how fast you got used to someone’s presence. 

A little restless he placed the ice-cream on the table and walked to the bedroom. It still was exactly as Ivy had left it this morning. The bed wasn't made, her shirt tangled with the covers and all her belongings strewn across the floor and furniture. Gold sighed. The afternoon sun was peeking through the blinds, bathing the room in warm light. He half thought about scooping all the things up and putting them into the yellow backpack and then changing the covers, but he couldn't bring himself to touch anything. Instead he hobbled back to his armchair and sat down once more. Maybe he should have bought a radio, he thought, drumming his fingers on the armrest. He did not care for television at all and he never would, but a little music would have been nice right now. Belle had a lovely singing voice. He wondered if Ivy did too. Unfortunately, he couldn't carry a tune to save his life, so maybe not. He looked at Ivy’s denim jacket on the sofa’s backrest. They would need to come back and pick everything up, Gold told himself. They weren't gone completely yet. He would get one more chance and he’d better not blow it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on the age difference: I know that during 4A Alex and Phil were shown as babies during the mommy and me class scenes. However, I still maintain that Alexandra (Cinderella's daughter), who was born during Season one, should have been a toddler by then and not a baby. Therefore, I've decided to make her roughly two years older than Neal and Philip and thus almost three years older than Ivy. 
> 
> Ignore me if that doesn't make any sense at all, because honestly I don't know with this show anymore sometimes.


	12. Bad Blood

### Chapter 12: Bad Blood

Ivy sat on the king-size bed in the hotel room watching her mother unpack. The air in the little room was so thick it could have been chopped up and served cube-shaped with a grape on a toothpick. They had covered the basics on the ride here: No, they could not return to Storybrooke for the time being, but would be notified as soon as they could. Yes, Ivy was grounded until college graduation. They would still have to discuss the when and how exactly Ivy had managed to find her father. Ivy had claimed the whole thing to be merely coincidence, but her mother was not so easily fooled. If she told the truth, she would have to hand back the spell books she had taken. Her mother carefully avoided bringing up the topic of Ivy’s father after that, which was irritating Ivy to no end. So far Belle had shot down every attempt at conversation on the topic, leaving it to become the big dancing elephant in the room. Ivy fell back on the bed with a huff, sending dust particles flying. Disgusted, she pushed herself back up. 

“Mom, can we talk about the elephant _now_ ?” Ivy said impatiently. She was fed up with the beating around the bush.

Her mom turned around to face her, a couple of Ivy’s pullovers in her arms. “Elephant? What elephant?”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Mom. Can we talk about _him_ or not?”

“No.” Belle pursed her lips and put the pullovers in one of the drawers behind her.

“Mom!”

Belle turned around again. “Not now, Ivy.”

“Then when? When you have come up with some bullshit story to tell me about how you are right?!” Ivy glared. Her mother was delusional if she thought that she would let it go just like that. It was stupid and unfair and Ivy wanted a reason.

“Ivy, language!” Belle bent down to get a couple more shirts from the duffle “This is not open for discussion.” 

“Yes it is! You can’t do this!”

Belle did not answer. She just kept refolding clothes and putting them away.

Ivy jumped off the bed “Hey, I am talking to you!” She got in between Belle and the dresser “Mom!”

Her mother shook her head. “Ivy, I know you don’t understand right now, but it is not going to work this way. We are going home soon and I am just trying to protect you.”

Ivy snorted. “Protect me from what, Mom? From him? Why would I need to be protected from him? That’s bull.”

“Ivy!”

Ivy ran her hand through her hair. Fine. If she would get no explanation out of her mother, maybe her dad would be willing to give her one. This was madness. Why was her mother so appalled by the idea that she wanted to get to know her father? Maybe a few days wasn't that much to go on, but Ivy was sure that he was neither a bad guy nor dangerous in any way. So what was the big deal?!

“Fine. Maybe I’ll just have to ask him then!” 

“Baby…” Belle tried to place her hands on Ivy’s shoulders, but Ivy shook her off. 

“Don’t _baby_ me! I will not sit here until we get to go back home and just pretend I never met him, okay? And if you expect me to… then that’s fucked up.” Ivy stomped back to the bed, grabbed the PJs her mother had laid out and got the dopp kit out of the duffle “I am sleeping in aunt Ruby’s room.”

Belle did not say anything as her daughter left the room and slammed the door shut behind her. Deep down she knew that Ivy was right, but admitting that to her meant she would have to admit it to herself and she did not feel ready to do that yet. She vaguely wondered who the coward was now. Being honest to Ivy would mean facing the past again and Belle wasn't sure that that was something she was able to do just now. She was exhausted. Exhausted from the worrying and searching and crying; exhausted from the little sleep and the stress of the trip - and then there was always the thought of _him_ too.

How could she ever explain to their daughter what had happened between the two of them? How would she ever find the right words to make sense of something that she was not sure even made the slightest sense anymore. What _had_ happened between them? Belle sighed and sat down on the bed, looking out of the window. The sky was various shades of red and orange as the sun was just about to set. She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths.

They would have to see each other again – even if it was just to collect Ivy’s belongings. Belle half thought about just leaving them for good and avoiding the whole situation altogether. They couldn’t just run home again, though. They had to stick it out until they would receive a message or call that the curse had been broken. Even if they could have returned immediately, it would have ended with her having to drag a protesting Ivy back home against her will – which was wrong and pointless. _Everything was wrong and pointless._ She just wanted to protect Ivy from all the mess and hurt feelings, but if she forced her, she was sure that Ivy would just run off again at the first chance she got – and a broken curse would only make that easier. Belle somehow had to find a way to make Ivy understand that returning home was the right decision. _Or was it?_

The whole day had been a sickening blur of events and emotions. Belle did not know what to make of any of it - what to make of her heart fluttering in betrayal whenever she recalled the image of him standing in the hospital hall in his smart gray suit, his gentle eyes fixed on her. She must not make the same mistakes again. No matter the expression in his eyes today, he had made his choice years ago and he would probably make the same choice over again and again. He did not love her – at least not as much as he had made her believe. He had always loved the magic and power and his deals more. The thought still stung, even if she had tried to make her peace with the reality of it. She had been nothing more than a pawn in one of his games, it seemed. Another person he toyed with as long as it was convenient. Why ever had he claimed her as his price in the Enchanted Forest in the first place? What had he even wanted with her? Why had he picked _her_? Could all of it really have been nothing more than a game, a lie? A small voice in the back of her head was still too stubborn to accept this as fact - against all of her efforts. Could all of her memories be that fake, her own feelings in the past be that off?

Yet he had chosen the power over her. There was no denying that. Belle wondered what would have happened, if he had known that she had been with child back then. Would that have changed anything? Even as she asked the question in her head, she knew the answer. No, it would not have changed anything. He still would have had lied to her, he still would have had kept her in the dark, he still would have gone about his vengeful business and still would have gotten carried away with the magic and the power. How would a baby have changed any of that? She knew that he had loved his son dearly, but would he have been able to love his daughter just as much, when his mind was preoccupied with the darkness and the dagger and with his thoughts that twisted? 

He had pulled out of their relationship way before they had even been married. They had stopped talking. Both of them had, Belle knew. Maybe she should have tried harder back then, should have talked her way through his amour. However, had he wanted for her to be part of his life, truly wanted her inside his walls, he had known where to find her, too. He _knew_ that she loved him more than anything. She would have listened, if only he had talked; would have gladly helped to her ability, if only he had let her in. He had not. He had closed himself off from her more and more, pulling away. Maybe their love just hadn’t been strong enough after all.

Belle opened her eyes again, looking about the room. She wasn’t even done unpacking half the things she had brought, but couldn’t make herself get off the bed and get on with it, either. She just sat and stared at nothing in particular for a little while, before she kicked off her heels and scrambled to get under the duvet, pulling it all the way up over her head. She didn’t even bother to get out of her skirt and blouse first. In the warm and dark, her body felt pleasantly numb and her head finally stopped spinning. She just wanted to catch her breath for a moment, just close her heavy eyes for a little bit.

Ivy fidgeted with the keycard, standing barefoot in the hallway in her red plaid PJs. Ruby’s room was only a few doors down from her mother’s, but still Ivy’s breathing was labored as if she had just run a few flights of stairs. She wasn’t sure she wanted to do this. Aunt Ruby had said to go and do it, that she and her mother had to talk to each other about this and that Ivy should not leave her mom alone right now. Ivy did not understand, but Ruby’s answers had been cryptic at most. It wasn’t her story to tell, she had said. Whatever that meant. What story was there to be told, Ivy wondered. Her parents had split up, but lots of parents did. Splitting up sometimes was the better option too - better than staying together for the kids’ sake, anyway - like Phil’s parents did. At least that was what Phil had told her at the park one night. Ivy would not have wanted that. What could have happened between her father and mother, though that her mother so much as refused to talk about him at all? Ivy did not like to think that he had hurt her mother that much. She didn't know what to think anymore. Why did nobody bother to explain things to her?

She pushed the door open slowly, slinked into the dark room and, almost stumbling over her duffle on the floor, tiptoed to the bed. Carefully, she scrambled onto it and slid under the covers to warm up. Her mother had her back to her and did not stir. Ivy held her breath, lying on her back and staring at the ceiling. So much for talking things over, she thought. It wasn't even that late yet, why was her mother asleep already? At home, her mother would always be the last to go to bed and the first one to get up in the mornings. Ivy exhaled audibly. Muffled sounds made her turn her head. She blinked in the darkness. Was her mother crying? It definitely sounded like it. Ivy froze. The sounds were very quiet and stifled. Her mom probably had not wanted her to hear at all. Ivy turned to her left, watching her mother’s silhouette quiver. She had only ever seen her mother cry once in her life before. Her mom never cried. Ivy listened, eyes fixed on Belle’s back. Should she say something? Do something? Biting her bottom lip, she moved closer to her mother’s side of the bed and after another moment of hesitation, put her arms around her from behind clumsily, her cast complicating matters slightly. She felt her mother stiffen at the touch and heard her draw in a sharp breath, but then Belle turned and wordlessly pulled Ivy closer. 

Ivy snuggled up to her instinctively, feeling the warmth and the soft silk fabric of her mom’s blouse against her cheek. Had her mom forgotten to pack her own PJ's, Ivy wondered as she listened to the familiar heartbeat. How odd. Her mom never forgot anything. Had she been uncertain before, she now knew that her mother had indeed been crying. Her face and neckline were damp and her breathing slightly ragged. 

Ivy nestled up even closer “Are you sad, momma?” She never called her mother that anymore these days, feeling that anything but mom was not casual enough. Her mom did not answer immediately, but instead tightened her grip and kissed Ivy’s forehead.

“Yes, baby.” She breathed, her voice hoarse.

“Because of him?” 

Belle stroked her hair “It will pass.” 

Ivy did not remember falling asleep. When she woke up, the sun was peeking through the windows already. She lay sprawled diagonally across the whole bed, the blanket around her like a burrito. Drowsy, she rubbed her eyes and sat up. Her mom was still asleep, curled up in the upper right corner of the bed. Ivy yawned and untangled herself from the duvet, carefully covering her mother with it once she had gotten out of bed. She must be cold. As quietly as possible, Ivy grabbed underwear, a fresh pair of black jeans, a white tank top, a green and blue plaid shirt and her black converse and went to the bathroom. She had made up her mind last night. She’d do this on her own.

When she reemerged fully dressed, she rummaged in her mom’s purse, stuffed some money in her pockets, put on her mother’s black shades and quickly scribbled a note on the hotel pad. She’d ask for a map downstairs and would hopefully get back here before neither her mother nor Ruby would notice she had been gone. Determined, she snuck out of the room and took one of the elevators to the lobby. Breakfast was surely already over, so she would just have to grab something on the way or something.

Ivy was lost. To find the way from the hotel to her father’s place was proving to be more difficult than she had expected. She had been given a map and directions, but somehow she must have misunderstood. She had no idea where she was. This did not look like the right neighborhood. Maybe, she thought, she should have waited for her mother or Ruby to get up after all. Ivy looked down at the map again. This had been easier when she had had the enchanted tie. She leaned against a wall, frowning. She was pretty sure that she had taken the right subway. Maybe she had gotten off at the wrong stop? 

This was not how it had been supposed to go. She had wanted to prove to her mother that she could do this on her own, that she wasn't a baby anymore and that she did not have to worry. Her mom had no right to keep her from seeing her father without even asking what she wanted, but also Ivy did not want to make her sad again. She wanted to get to know him, but maybe it was best if she kept her mother out of it. She’d just go and pick her stuff up by herself and work something out with her dad. 

At that moment, something touched her foot, making her jump. Ivy looked down. At her feet was a little dog, a cute spotted puppy jumping her legs and wagging its tail. Smiling, Ivy pushed the sunglasses up, stuffed the map in her back pocket and crouched down to pet the little animal.

“Hey, bud. You startled me there.” She looked around for the owner “Where are your people?”

She couldn't see anyone, but the puppy was wearing a collar. Maybe it had run away and was lost? “That would be you and me both, buddy.” Ivy sighed and picked it up, struggling a little with her hurt hand and arm. The puppy immediately began licking her face, making her giggle. 

“Let’s get you home then.” She started walking down the street, the dog in her arms. Maybe they would run into its owners. If not, she’d drop it off at a vet’s or a shelter. She would ask her dad where the closest one was. They kept walking for a bit. The puppy had closed its eyes and seemed very content with the sun on its face. Ivy wondered vaguely whether all puppies kept this still when carried. Maybe it just enjoyed the warmth. Turning another corner, they were on what seemed to be a main road, so Ivy shifted the puppy to the left and held out her right hand to hail a cab just like she had seen her father do it. She wondered why she hadn’t thought about calling a cab earlier. The subway was dirty and creepy anyway. Hopefully the money in her pocket would still be enough to get her where she wanted to go. When a cab stopped, she gave the address she remembered and asked for the fee. The driver eyed the puppy suspiciously.

“He trained, princess?” he asked, indicating the yapping dog.

“Of course … sir.” Ivy smiled her best smile.

“Then hop in.”

It didn't take them long to reach her father’s place. They had been closer than Ivy had thought. She paid and thanked the driver and got out, hoisting the puppy back into her arms. 

“You’re heavy, bud.” She smiled as the little animal gave a soft growl. “Oh, so very sorry” Ivy laughed “I did not mean to imply you were fat or anything. Jeez, you’re a sensitive one, aren't you?” 

She put the puppy down to ring the bell. As the door opened and her father appeared, the puppy suddenly darted through her legs, down the steps and across the street, where the little patch of grass and the trees were. “Hey!” Ivy spun around. Maybe it had seen something, a bird or a rabbit perhaps. She ran down the steps after it, only stopping and turning when her father addressed her.

“Ivy?” her dad stood in the door, now looking up and down the street. Ivy guessed that he was looking for her mom or Ruby.

“Hi, uh, I …” Ivy turned again, but she could not spot the puppy anymore. _Damn._ “I came to get my stuff, but now the puppy has run away.”

Her father looked at her, confused. “You – you have a dog?” 

“No, he’s not mine. I found him. Or he found me.” Ivy gestured with her hands as she spoke “I wanted to get him home, but he ran. I have to go and find him. He’s got no idea what he’s doing.” 

Before Gold could say or do anything, Ivy had turned again and sprinted down the steps and across the street. He didn't quite understand what this dog business was all about, but decided to follow his daughter anyway. He quickly grabbed his keys, closed his front door and went after her, his leg not permitting anything more than a fast walk. Cussing under his breath, he crossed the green patch and just caught a glimpse of blonde hair flying as Ivy turned left, two streets ahead of him. He tried to speed up, his bad leg hurting worse with each step. This was rather ridiculous. 

He had just thought about maybe stopping and waiting or going back to his place to wait there – he wouldn't be of much help searching anyway – when a shrill shriek made his blood run cold. He called out for his daughter and got another shriek in response. Throwing caution to the wind, he tried to break into a run, ignoring the sharp pain in his leg. He had a really bad feeling, but couldn't put his finger on the why just yet. Something was very strangely familiar about this. 

When he finally found his daughter, he came to an abrupt halt, a low growl forming deep in his throat. Holding Ivy around the neck was none other than his old acquaintance and former Queen of Darkness, Cruella de Vil.

“Oh Rumple, how nice of you to join us” Cruella smirked at him “at long last.”

Gold gave her an unimpressed look. He mustn't let her know of his concern or she would milk it mercilessly. Although Cruella had never possessed dangerous magic, she was ruthless and fully living up to her name. She would stop at nothing and no one to get what she wanted. He had to be careful where he trod now or she would do serious harm to his child, who was struggling against her hold frantically. If only he could communicate to Ivy to keep still and let him handle this, but he could not let the tall two-faced bitch know that he was even as much as a little fazed with what was playing out before his eyes.

“Cruella, to what do I owe the honor of this rather unexpected visit?” he snarled coldly.

“I still have a bone to pick with you, Rumplestiltskin, which you very well know.” She smiled at him, but the smile did not reach her eyes. “I’d say you are rather hard to get a hold of. This took me a while.”

“However did you find me now, dearie?” he leaned forward on his cane, much more to relieve some of the pain in his leg than for dramatic effect, but Cruella did not notice. 

“Saw your little maid yesterday and figured I’d find you if I just stuck to her trails long enough, but then this tiny one snuck away this morning and I got curious” she ran the gloved fingers of her free hand across Ivy’s neck and cheek, still keeping her in a choke hold “She even fell for my little trick, gullible thing” Cruella laughed “but I do make a rather splendid puppy, if I dare say so myself” she flipped her two-colored hair back “and look where the little fool has led me. I am beyond pleased.” She twisted Ivy’s right arm, making the girl cry out in pain.

“Let her go” Gold hissed, trying to cover up the fact that he was panting rather heavily and had to rely on his cane for support not to lose his balance. He grimaced from the pain, but luckily Cruella seemed to interpret it as an aggressive gesture rather than a sign of agony.

“Why, what is she to you?” Cruella batted her eyelashes mockingly and pouted “unless” she ran her hand through Ivy’s blonde waves “my eyes are not betraying me and she is your pretty petite maid in miniature…” A knowing smile spread across her face and she wagged her red-gloved finger at him “don’t tell me the Dark One got busy.” She loosened her hold on Ivy, spun her around so the girl was facing her, and gripped her chin to make her look up at her. “Mhm” She pretended to study her features closely “Same blue eyes, same chubby cheeks” she pinched Ivy’s right cheek “cute, but a little vague” Cruella looked up at him over Ivy’s head, a vicious smile on her lips. 

Ivy used this moment to stomp down onto Cruella’s foot and hard. Gold could see the surprise mingle with pain that quickly turned into rage on Cruella’s face as Ivy simultaneously pushed against her captor, used her momentary imbalance to free herself and ran to him. He hugged her quickly, before shoving her gently behind himself to shield her from Cruella, whose face had bypassed red and was now turning maroon and who was advancing on the two of them menacingly. 

“Stay behind me” Gold whispered out of the corner of his mouth. He did not have the slightest idea how to get the two of them out of this situation in one piece, given that he had no magic and that his crippled leg meant he’d be at the disadvantage if it came to physical fighting. He had never been one for that either way. His weapons of choice were his words, not his fists. Not that he would not try and employ both if Ivy’s safety was what was at stake. No one threatened his family, magic at his disposal or not, and got away with it.

“What is it that you want from me, Cruella?” Gold hoped that keeping the conversation going would stall Cruella long enough for her to get her rage problems under control. She stopped right in front of him.

“I require your assistance with something, short stuff” she growled, looking down. 

Damn, why did she have to be this tall, Gold wondered. He did not like having to look up at her. “And what made you think that this was the appropriate manner to ask?” Gold snarled.

“I assumed you would be more inclined to agree to my proposal if I had something that was of interest to you – given how much you love making your silly little deals.” She grinned at Ivy over his shoulder.

He took a step back “A deal, dearie? Why do you think I am even the slightest bit interested in making deals with you?”

Cruella sneered “Because you have gone soft, Rumple and you and your little _family_ ” she spat the word in his face, eyes flashing “will be damned if you don’t”

Gold gritted his teeth “Let’s hear it then.” 

Cruella smiled a sickeningly sweet smile at him “Now that’s more like it.” She linked her fingers “I want you to lead me and a … _friend_ to a place called Storybrooke…”

Gold heard Ivy draw in a sharp breath behind him and to his horror Cruella’s eyes lit up at the sound.

“Or have the little doll do it instead?” She raised her eyebrows “What do you say, pet?”

“Leave her out of it” Gold spoke before Ivy could and made sure the girl stayed safely behind him.

Cruella tittered “My, my, aren't you quite the protective type. Tell you what, Rumplestiltskin, if you lead us to the desired location, no harm shall come to either maid or child.”

“And what do you seek at the place?” Gold was thinking fast. He could lead Cruella and her accomplice to the town line, but if the curse was still working they would not be able to enter the town, which would surely be interpreted as a deal breaker. He could not let her know of this hindrance, though, because admitting that he could not break the curse, would rob him of the last ace up his sleeve. If he told Cruella about the curse, he’d let her know beyond a doubt that he was currently without his powers. He was pretty sure that her fear of his magic was the only thing that kept the maniac from lunging at him and Ivy right now. Yet, if he did not wish for Cruella to unleash her fury on Belle and Ivy in the very near future, he’d better see to it that she made it past the town line one way or another. He did not much care for the people within the town – for when had any of them ever truly cared about him? Even after he had sacrificed his life for them, he had always remained a monster in their eyes. A monster that needed to be controlled and kept far away from them – unless of course they needed his powers for something. He knew that Belle would not like this deal, though. He would have to tear his last delicate hopes of reconciliation and a second chance with his family to shreds to keep them out of harm’s way. If he did not agree to the deal, he would put Ivy in great danger right now. If he agreed, he’d lose both his daughter and Belle forever, when he saw his end of bargain through. There was no other possible out. Gold sighed.

“None of your business.” Cruella chirped and then giggled. 

She truly was a lunatic, Gold thought.

Suddenly her demeanor changed and her face darkened. She began circling him and Ivy like a beast of prey, muscles twitching, teeth bared and ready to pounce at any given moment. Gold moved with her, never letting her out of his sight and shielding Ivy at the best of his ability. 

“Do we have a deal, Rumple?” Cruella snarled.

He knew that her fuse was rather on the short side. He had to decide now. “Consider it struck.”

Gold heard Ivy gasp, but dared not turn his back on Cruella just yet.

Delighted Cruella put her hands together “Always a pleasure doing business with you.” Her voice was honeyed and the wild happiness on her face did nothing to enhance her features. If anything it made her look even more beastly and revolting. Gold grimaced. 

“I guess I will leave you to it then, Rumple. Your company is rather tedious, you know.” Cruella whirled herself and her long coat around dramatically and began walking away. Gold exhaled. 

“I will get back to you on the details of our little agreement” Cruella called over her shoulder “Now that I know where to find you.” Apparently struck by another thought, she spun around again “and don’t even try backing out or running for it. _Any of you._ I would know and your little _beauty_ would pay the prize.” 

Gold swallowed and nodded. _Damn._ He watched as the tall mental case walked further up the street and away from them, when a pompous black car appeared around the corner and stopped right at her side. Cruella got in in one swift motion and the long vehicle sped off. Gold groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. _What a disastrous turn of events_. Well, there was nothing he could do about Cruella now, but he had to warm Belle immediately. It would probably be best if she and Ivy left New York as soon as possible – given that Cruella’s warming about running had been an idle threat. Gold did not believe that she had the means to have them followed. _Or did she?_ First, he had to get his daughter to safety.

He turned around and almost jumped back in surprise. Ivy was looking daggers at him, biting down on her lip, her arms crossed in front of her chest. _Oh, bloody hell_.


	13. What Ivy Knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Well, folks, this took a while. My apologies. Life just got in the way and then I could not find my mojo. I am making up for the delay with an extra-long chapter. _I hope you enjoy._
> 
> Also, please take note that this fic is now rated **NC-17/Explicit** ... _You know, for reasons._

### Chapter 13: What Ivy Knew

Gold ran his hand through his hair, walking up and down in his little living room. 

“You need to tell me. Don’t you understand, time is of the essence here!”

He looked at his daughter, who had reclaimed her usual spot on his sofa, her nose in one of her battered paperbacks acting like he was one with the stuffy air in the room. 

“I need to talk to your mother immediately, Ivy. Please tell me where I can find her?” Gold tried again, pleading with the stubborn girl. Didn’t she understand that there was no time for this? No time for lengthy explanations, no time for hurt feelings or reassurances. 

“No.” Ivy looked up from her book “I told you. I am going back alone.”

Gold stopped pacing. “Most certainly not. That woman’s dangerous.”

Ivy shrugged. “You don’t seem to have a problem letting her loose on _my friends_ and _my family_ ,” she said, her voice cold and distant. 

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Gold gripped the sofa’s backrest tightly. It was true; he had no interest in protecting the town or the people within. Those people who had used him whenever it was convenient, but shunned him when he was of no immediate use to them. He had saved them once, losing all he loved in the aftermath of that decision. He would not make the same mistake twice. 

They were nothing to him, but he did not expect the child to understand. He was sure that they were perfectly kind and caring when it came to Ivy. She posed neither a threat to them, nor had she anything to offer that they could reap any undeserving benefits from. She was her sweet and loving mother in miniature, surely welcome in their midst and no doubt adored and doted on by the townsfolk. It was only natural that she would feel protective of them.

He, however, had other priorities. Belle’s and Ivy’s safety was all that mattered. If keeping them safe required letting the deranged battle-axe having her fun with the town, then so be it. What was it to him?

“You cannot go alone. It isn’t safe,” Gold said with finality in his voice.

“Fine. Then I am not going, but neither are you, Ivy shot back without looking up. “I am not telling you where she is.”

She crossed her legs and turned a page.

Gold rubbed his neck. Why did she have to be so difficult? Ever since they had come out of their encounter with Cruella, Ivy had been nothing but effing _difficult_. 

She wasn’t openly hostile towards him, but something had changed in her behavior. It was understandable of course, given that she had heard the deal and what it entailed, that she was angry with him. She would not understand his reasoning – it being so far from her own, surely. 

However, there was more to it than that. She was her usual impertinent self, answering back and acting unfazed, but she also seemed more closed-off, chilly even.

They had had the same conversation – of sorts – over and over again since they had gotten back to the house. 

While he tried to communicate to her that there was no time and that he had to talk to Belle, she remained that she’d either go back to wherever they were staying on her own, or that no one would get there to tell Belle anything. 

Ivy outright refused to tell him Belle’s whereabouts and made it very clear that she did not want him anywhere near her. 

Gold wondered what had happened between mother and daughter to cause this shift in attitude. Had Belle told Ivy that she did not want to see him or speak to him? Was that why Ivy had come on her own to get her clothes and books? It hurt to think that Belle wouldn’t even give him a chance to talk to her, to explain, but he wasn’t altogether that surprised. Sad, but not surprised. 

“Fine then.” 

Gold walked over to the kitchenette to boil some water for a cup of strong tea. This was getting him nowhere. He had to think of another way. 

Maybe he could call nearby hotels and motels or B&Bs. It would surely take him forever, but what else was he supposed to do? He couldn’t force his daughter to tell him, locator potions and spells wouldn’t work and there was no time to hire a private investigator.

For now, he had to trust that the deal would keep Cruella from harming Belle – it was in the terms they had agreed upon after all. Only, Cruella was prone to rashness and violent outbursts and did not much care for rules or agreements when she got into a temper or simply got a little too bored. 

Gold tapped his fingers on the counter, staring at the hot water kettle without really looking at it. 

He turned. “Ruby is with your mother right now, correct?”

Ivy considered him for a moment. “Yes.”

“Good.” Gold nodded his head.

The girl furrowed her brows, but said nothing and then returned her attention to her book. 

Gold took a deep breath. At least Belle was not alone. Ruby Lucas would surely scent trouble coming – even if she wasn’t in her wolf form. That would hopefully give them a head start – should they have the misfortune of needing one.

Behind him the kettle whistled. Still lost in thought, he poured the milk, then steaming water into a big mug. It was a little early for tea still, but he got out some scones nevertheless and put them out on a plate, then carried tea and baked goods to the little coffee table. 

Ivy looked up from her book.

“Would you like a scone?” Gold gestured towards the plate “They can’t compete with the homemade kind, of course, but unfortunately I am not one for baking.” 

He picked up his mug and held it between his hands to warm them.

Ivy’s stomach growled as if in response and the girl blushed scarlet.

“Or maybe something more substantial?” Gold smirked.

“Nah, ‘tis fine.” Ivy grabbed a scone and hastily shoved the whole thing in her mouth at once, making Gold shudder. Belle really hadn’t made manners a priority in the girl’s education, it seemed.  
He watched her wipe her fingers on her jeans, eyes still fixed on the page she was currently reading. Gold looked at the book’s cover.

“What are you reading?”

Ivy looked up briefly. “It’s called The Hunger Games.” 

“What is it about?”

“It’s about a dystopic society. They send their children to fight-to-the-death tournaments.”

Gold furrowed a brow. “Sounds barbaric.” 

“That’s the point.” 

He nodded. It was evident from her curt impatient answers that Ivy did not wish to be interrupted in her reading. So Gold sat, sipping his tea and watching his daughter read in silence. 

Ivy and Belle had that same look of utmost concentration on their faces when they read. He found it endearing. Smiling to himself, he took a bite of his own scone and washed it down with some more hot tea.

Without so much as looking up, Ivy’s hand snuck to the plate for another scone, again cramming the thing into her mouth whole. Gold chuckled softly. Maybe he had to reevaluate his definition of _barbaric_. 

Still chuckling, he got up and got his own book from the little shelf in the corner.

He had to come up with a way to get Ivy back to her mother safely. Letting her roam the streets on her own wasn’t safe. He also did not like the idea of sending Ivy off in a cab alone. There was still so much that could go wrong – even on a simple cab ride. He had to somehow convince her to let him come along to keep her from possible harm. He would never have been able to forgive himself if something happened to Ivy and surely Belle would agree with him on that. 

Both Ivy and Belle were safe for now – hopefully. Maybe he needed to give the girl some more time to cool down, before trying to talk some sense into her once more. 

He needed to warn Belle – if he could not talk to her, then maybe he had to write the whole thing down and give a letter to Ivy. But then, how could he be sure that Belle would not throw it out unread or that Ivy would even give it to her mother in the first place? 

Gold sighed and looked for his place in the book. Maybe taking his mind of matters for a few minutes would help him find a solution to the problem.

“What are you reading?” 

Gold looked up to find his daughter looking at him curiously. “The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco.”

“What is it about?”

“It is a historical murder mystery set in an Italian monastery – sort of anyway.”

“How can it be _sort of_ a murder mystery?” Ivy cocked her head.

“Well, the author uses the narrative to convey an incredible wealth of information about the medieval period, semiotics, aesthetics and logic to the reader. It is not merely a thriller. He launches quite frequently into serious philosophical discourse, really. So it is probably safe to say that he wished to educate his readers rather than to entertain them.” 

Ivy scrunched up her nose. “Sounds lame.”

Gold laughed. “I can assure you it is no such thing.”

Ivy did not look convinced. She shrugged and then resumed her own reading. 

Gold shook his head and did the same.

They had sat and read for a while when Ivy suddenly put her book down.

“Dad, what happened between you and Mom?”

Startled both by her choice of address and the question itself, Gold gaped at his daughter. How in the name of God was he supposed to answer that?

The question was so loaded, the answer so layered – and the whole thing probably an inappropriate tale to tell his underage daughter. To do her question justice, he would have had to start at the very beginning, way before he and Belle had even met. He didn’t have it in him to coherently summarize events and motivations and outcomes right now. He felt exhausted by the thought of going that far back and coming all the way here. 

“It is very complicated.” He knew that his answer would not do, but it was the only thing that he could come up with that did not downplay anything or was a downright lie.

“Uh-huh.” Ivy hugged her knees and avoided looking at him as she spoke. “It’s only, you know, she’s really sad.”

“That is my fault and I am really sorry for it.” He felt a familiar pang of pain in his chest. Belle was not okay. She was hurting and it was his fault. If only he knew how to fix it. “I never meant to cause your mother any pain.”

Ivy kept her eyes on the half-empty scone plate .“How is it your fault? What did you do?”

“I made wrong decisions for the right reasons, made mistakes that led your mother to make some of her own and we both got hurt in the process.” He spoke very quietly. “I don’t think I can ever make it up to her.”

“Couldn’t you tell her you were sorry?”

 _Oh, sweet summer child_ , Gold thought. If only apologies could fix this - he’d be a much happier man for it – but they were past sorry at this point. Past those days that sorry could make it right. 

_Sorry_ would not do. He’d apologize, he’d beg on his knees groveling in the dust and dirt, if there had been any chance that that would have changed anything. But sorry was just a word, empty and shallow, and could not undo the wrong turns taken, the acid words spoken or the pain inflicted. 

He looked at his daughter’s face, young and open, her blue eyes hopeful and not understanding. In her world, sorry was still enough to right the wrongs and to soothe the aches. He smiled sadly.

“It’s really not that easy. It’s –“

The rest of his sentence was drowned by the sound of the doorbell ringing continuously – someone very impatient leaning on it vigorously. 

Gold didn’t have to think twice to guess who that person might be. Gulping he got up, grabbed his cane and went to answer the door.

Ivy sat up and leaning over the backrest watched her father go. She couldn’t see down the hallway all the way to the door, but recognized the visitor’s voice immediately. It was her mother. 

Ivy bit her bottom lip. _Uh-oh_ , this wouldn’t be good. 

She couldn’t hear what her parents were saying, their voices too low, but took it as a good sign that nobody was shouting. She caught a glimpse of her father hanging up her mother’s coat then the pair of them came walking towards her, her dad following behind her mother. 

Her mom stopped right at the sofa, hand on hip and raised her eyebrows so high they almost disappeared into her hairline. 

_Oops_. 

Ivy tried for a crooked grin, but her mother was unimpressed.

“Uh, would you like anything to drink?” 

Belle shifted her attention from Ivy to Gold, who was hovering by her side awkwardly, thumbs in his pockets and bouncing on his toes slightly.

“No, thank you.” Belle sat down beside her daughter on the sofa, hands in her lap. 

Ivy shot her a sideward glance. Her mother was a little too calm, a little too polite and collected. This was weird.

Her father shuffled over to the kitchenette and got out a glass and a bottle of what Ivy assumed had to be some sort of hard liquor. _Swell, cheers then_. She rolled her eyes.

Her mother cleared her throat and Ivy turned her head. 

“Ivy, go and get your things now, please.” Her mother’s voice was perfectly level, but Ivy could tell from her tone and expression that this was not over. She was in deep trouble. 

She jumped up immediately and after another glance at her father, who had slammed his glass on the counter and was holding onto the edge with both hands his body bent and head bowed, hurried over to the bedroom to pack.

No sooner had she started picking up books and clothes at random and throwing them higgledy-piggledy into her backpack, when the shouting started.

First, it was her mother who yelled and then her father was shouting too. 

Ivy bit down on her bottom lip hard, pushed herself up off the floor and kicked the door shut with her foot. She really did not want to hear this.

“How could you agree to that?!” Belle flashed her eyes at her estranged husband. All those years and he had not changed one bit. He was still the man, who made wrong choices. The butterflies in her belly had nothing to do with infatuation; they were swirling angrily and coalescing into one hard, vibrating ball of fury.

“Well, what would you have had me do _instead_ ?” Gold stood, his back to the sink, still holding onto the metal knuckles white. “Let that maniac hurt our child, to keep the pawns safe in her place? Would you have preferred _that_ , Belle?!”

Eyes shut, Belle exhaled through her mouth and nose. _Of course not_. What was he even asking?

Of course she wanted Ivy to be safe and sound above all else, but even if striking the deal had been inevitable to appease Cruella at that time, the way he spoke made it absolutely clear that he felt no compassion for those who would suffer the consequences when it was seen through, and no remorse for bringing their fate about them. 

Belle could not understand how he could care so little for the lives of the people that he once had shared history with, people who he had bonds with, family ties even. What about Henry? What about Neal, whose death had had him promise to be a better man? Had all that been an act, nothing but smoke and mirrors and empty words?

Belle opened her eyes again, slight pounding in her head. 

Why even was she still holding onto his vows and promises? It was silly, she knew, silly and pointless. Had he not already proven that he had not meant any of it? 

“No. But you seem happy about it.” 

“Happy? _happy_ ?!” Gold pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am not happy, Belle. A tad indifferent maybe, but not happy.”

She pursed her lips.

“You haven’t changed at all, Rumplestiltskin.” Belle pressed her lips to an even thinner line and looked away.

“And what exactly would you expect me to have changed _into_ , dearie?” Gold snarled. “And you do realize that the danger isn’t over, do you?” He gestured with his hands. “Not for any of us.”

“There is no _us_ , Rumple.” She did not know what made her say it, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. 

Rumple’s face shot up at that, his lips parting slightly. 

“I am very well aware,” he said after a moment’s pause, and she could all but see his walls coming up around him. 

His mask of anger could not hide the emotions in his eyes, though. Belle could see it mingle with anguish and hurt, and it made her heart skip a beat.

Even his body betrayed him, for he was not taking an aggressive stance, but stood, shoulders slumped and body folding slightly into itself as if her words had been a knife’s blade that had just stabbed his heart and then been twisted. 

Belle bit her bottom lip. She felt a twinge of regret, but hadn’t she really just stated the facts? There was no them. They were no longer an item or an entity and they most certainly weren’t a _family_.

“I just want you safe. You and Ivy,” he said brokenly. “Even if I can never see you again.”

Belle slammed her eyes shut and turned her face slightly away from him. 

This was too much. The tightness in her chest was already making it difficult to breathe. 

He had no right to play this card now, not after what had happened. Not after what he had done. He had been the one who had betrayed her trust first, piling lie upon lie, shoving her to the sidelines to watch as he went about his power trip. He had shut her out first. 

Had she once believed that they could overcome any obstacle that fate threw at them with their love for each other, she had had to learn to accept that her love for him would never be enough, and that his love for her would always come second to his lust for power. He had not loved her _most_. Maybe it had been naïve of her to expect him to in the first place.

“You won’t,” she pressed out in a strangled voice, glancing upward to keep the tears from falling.  
No, she would not cry. Not in front of him. She would not let him hurt her again.

“Belle …”

“No!” she shouted, taking a step back. “You do not get to do this. You left _us_!”

His eyes narrowed. “If I remember correctly, dearie,” he growled. “You kicked _me_ out!” 

He had launched forward on impulse, pointing a finger at her face.

“Oh no!”

In an equally impulsive movement, she moved back closer and confronted him, leaning forward.

“You left me long before that, Rumplestiltskin! I only did what I did to keep you from becoming such an atrocious _beast_ that even you wouldn’t have known how to look yourself in the eye anymore.”

“Well and wasn’t that _heroic_ of you?” he snarled. “To send me out here with nothing but the clothes on my back.” He put his hands together. “Yes, yes, so very noble. Very _twu luv_.”

Belle stood, mouth open, gaping at him. “True love, Rumple? _True love_ ?!” she shrieked .“We were never true love. You never loved me like _that_! The gauntlet all but proved it!”

The grimace on his face vanished. There was a mix of emotions now playing there. “That is not true, Belle,” he said, his hand finding the spot right above his heart and resting there. “The gauntlet would lead to someone’s weakness, which would _almost_ always be the thing that person loves most.” 

His face crumpled. “That’s why it did not point to you. You have never been my weakness, Belle. You – were – my courage, my strength, my _light_ , don’t you see?”

She stumbled backwards as though his words had burnt her, shaking her head. No, no, no, he was toying with words again, toying with her. Twisting things around until they would match and click where he needed them to - like puzzle pieces. Only she was done playing.

“I will take Ivy and we will leave tonight!” She yelled.

“You cannot protect her.”

He pierced her with those sad eyes, his stare shooting pins and needles through her skin. 

How dare he say that she could not protect her child? Instinctively, a hand flew to her stomach, her voice rising another octave. 

“Oh, but you can? She doesn’t even _know_ you!” 

“And why would that be? Oh, I know, _you kept her from me!_ ” Gold spat, grabbing his glass and smashing it to the wall. “After all that has happened with my _son_ -” he hissed through gritted teeth. “You do _this_ to me!” He bellowed, grabbing her by the shoulders, shaking her.

“I didn’t even know I was pregnant!” 

Tears were falling from her eyes, blurring her vision. Did he think that she had wanted to raise Ivy on her own? That it had been enjoyable going through pregnancy alone with people either pitying or shunning her? To endure their whispers even after Ivy had been born. Frightened whispers, sideward glances, people keeping their distance.

Everyone, but Ruby. Caring, protective Ruby, who knew what it meant to be born different. Loyal Ruby, who had stood by her and Ivy from the very beginning, fiercely defending their honor.

Did he, even for a minute, think that she wouldn’t have chosen for things to be different then if she could have? But by then it had been too late.

There was a single hard thump. 

“Leave her alone!” 

Ivy had reemerged from the bedroom, dropped her backpack, and stormed to Belle’s side- and she was now attempting to push Rumple off. 

Taken aback, he let go of her shoulders immediately and retreated, a look of pure horror on his face. 

Ivy stood between them, panting, her fists raised in front of her trembling body. 

“You said you never wanted to hurt her!” she bawled. 

Belle flung her arms around her daughter from behind, before she could take her anger out on her father. They had this in common – the fiery temper, the short fuse. 

“Mom!” Ivy protested. 

“It’s okay, baby, shh.” 

Keeping one arm around Ivy’s middle, Belle placed her chin on her daughter’s head and stroked her left arm with her other hand, making soft shushing sounds. 

“Everything is alright. No harm done” 

She could feel her daughter’s body relax against her own.

“Ivy?”

When she turned, Belle saw that her own teary-eyed expression was mirrored on her little girl’s face. 

Fresh anger boiled in her lower body. Ivy should not have had to see this – or hear any of it, for that matter. Belle wondered how much of it she had heard. This was not for her eyes or ears. 

“Listen, baby, can you do something for me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Please, go and wait in the car with Ruby, love.” 

Ivy shook her head.

“I’ll be out in a minute, promise.”

Belle saw Ivy give her father a long, disapproving look at which he raised his hands. No doubt to show he had good intentions and meant no further harm. _Nice try_. 

Then Ivy turned, stomped through the hallway, gabbing her backpack on the way, and left. They could both hear her sob as the front door was slammed shut.

Silence fell. 

He was panting, backed against the sink once more, head lowered in shame and confusion, staring at his hands. 

What had he done? 

Cautiously, he raised his gaze again. Belle still stood in the same spot, her arms crossed before her chest.

“I am sorry,” he breathed. “I didn’t mean to… .” He took a watchful step towards her. 

“No, Rumple, no!” 

Belle’s face was burning, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

She had had enough of this. Maybe Ruby had been right suggesting that she should have accompanied her inside to get Ivy. She would listen to Ruby’s advice next time.

She copied her daughter and rushed to the hallway with Rumple on her heels. 

He caught up with her, caught one of her wrists and spun her, pressing her against the cool damp wall. 

Glaring at him, Belle’s chest heaved, and he saw the heat rise above her neckline, covering her skin in a delicious shade of pink. 

“What _else_ do you want, Rumple?!” She struggled against his grip, and he let go at once. 

They were standing so close now; she could smell him, his sweat, his aftershave. She flashed her eyes at him again.

“Please, Belle. Please give me a chance to explain.” 

He was positively pleading with her now. Belle did not know what was worse – his anger or his anguish. 

It did not help that he went hot and cold, switching between the two constantly, either. It only made everything worse. 

Her head pounded, and her heart was racing so fast that it hurt. Her stomach clenched convulsively. 

“So you can lie to me? Spin me some more stories, like you used to spin gold?”

“I won’t lie. I promise.”

She shut her eyes again. If she looked into his eyes now, she was lost. He would not get to her again. What even was left there for him to explain? 

Belle snorted. _Right_. 

“Like your promises mean anything! You are a notorious liar, Rumplestiltskin. A liar and a _coward_!” Belle hurled the word at him, knowing for well that it would hit where it hurt. “And look where your lies have gotten us!” she yelled.

“Damn it, Belle!” He slammed his hands to the wall in frustration, trapping her between his outstretched arms. 

She did not flinch, her eyes fixed on his face. She knew he would not hurt her, not ever – no matter how enraged he was, no matter how far she would push him. 

She knew him well; had seen the rage build up in him, his neck vein pulsing, face contorting. 

She glared at him as if to dare him to keep shouting or start shaking her again, pressing her lips tightly together.

He stepped closer, bending his arms and reducing the space between them to a bare minimum, but was still towering over her. 

Belle raised her head defiantly to meet his gaze. She could see his nostrils flare, felt his hot breath on her face and neck. There was a hint of whiskey in it which she would not have minded a glass of for herself right now.

Licking her bottom lip convulsively, Belle searched his face almost quizzically for a moment, following the quick flicker of his eyes to her lips, before her eyes sparked on his. Something shifted.

The next thing she knew, her back was up against the wall, his mouth hot on hers. 

She might’ve put her hands on his shoulders in a gesture of initial surprise and _whoa there, wait a minute_ , but they slid right up until her arms were locked around his neck.

His kisses were both agony and bliss, making her head swim. _Oh, how she had missed him…_. 

His hands dove into her hair, skimmed over her shoulders, molded down her body with such purpose and skill that any clear thought seemed driven from her mind. 

She knew that this was _so wrong_ , and that she was _still angry_ , but with her mouth under assault and her blood flashing from comfortably warm to desperately hot, any doubt, any sensibility, didn’t have a prayer. 

She knew that they needed to work things out, there were so many issues they had to resolve – and to resolve fast, before any more impending doom hit –really running was not an option - but at that moment she didn’t care.

All she cared about was the taste of his lips on hers, like warm whisky, and the feeling of his strong hands travelling down her back and pulling at her clothes. 

They might have stopped – if she’d pulled away from him now, taken a moment to think. They might have stopped and talked about how this was a horrible idea, but stopping seemed impossible. The talking and yelling was done. 

Instead, she tugged the knot on his tie loose, unbuttoned his shirt with trembling fingers until she could run her hands over flesh and scrape her nails over him, making him draw in a sharp breath, their lips still locked. 

Never breaking the kiss, Gold’s fingers got busy with her blouse, flipping open buttons half way down, then resorting to yank at the fabric instead, tearing it off and sending the rest of the buttons flying. 

A quick flick and her breasts, white satin, filled his hands.

Everything about her was smooth, soft. 

Trailing hot, wet kisses down the column of her throat, his hands cupped her breasts, squeezing, pinching and rolling her nipples. 

She whimpered throwing her head back, eyes closed. Then a low purr of pleasure as his hands, his lips, began to roam over her once more.

He continued kissing and biting, fierce and possessive, exploring her skin - electrified energized silk under his lips - leaving his mark on her, making her moan. 

Belle locked around him, holding tight, and her teeth nipped and gnawed on his bottom lip. 

She used her teeth on it, her tongue, all her conflicting emotions – the anger, the pain, the longing - swirling wildly, blending into hotness and urgency, pooling at her center. 

Gold slid her skirt up her gorgeous legs, feeling the heat radiating from her. 

Her little noises and moans made his cock surge against his fly. 

His hands gripped at her legs, pulling her up momentarily and pinning her to the wall, impatiently tugging at her tights, yanking until they ripped. He didn’t care. 

Slower now, he slid his hands up her legs, running his right hand over the back of her knee, sensitive enough to make her quiver, up to the inside of her thigh, so firm and warm.

They were pushing between their bodies now, her tugging at the button of his fly, pulling open his trousers with frantic hands, releasing his straining member.

Belle let out a gasp when he ran his fingertips over warm flesh, over the thin lacy bit that covered her. _Under it_. 

Not warm here, but hot. Hot and wet and open.

With his thumb he found her clit and rubbed slow circles. Her hips pumped and pressed, a low feral groan escaping her that shot straight to his belly. 

Her fingers dug in, a hard bite on his shoulder. 

She moaned, she quivered and her scent seemed to rise from light and teasing to a will-snapping musky opiate. 

_Now, now, now. Right this minute. Oh Gods!_ She did not know whether she said it out loud or just thought it. 

The sensations speeding through her flew too fast, too high for any kind of resistance, any hope of sanity. Any thought of stopping this forgotten, all she knew was that her body wanted him. That she wanted him. Always had and always would. 

She was clamped around him, arms and legs. The quickening of her breath, the urgent way her hands stroked over him, her nails scraping the skin on his back, clawing and bruising, made him even harder. 

When he was inside her, when he dove into her, deep and dark pleasure swamped her, taking any thought under. 

Fast and raw, right on the edge of violent, thrust after thrust. 

It filled up places she’d forgotten had been empty, fired up places she’d forgotten had gone cool. 

She moved with him, rolling her hips, hands slipping, sliding over flesh damp with sweat; her mouth, frantic, greedy seeking his. Her mind blissfully empty of any complex thought.

He had her arms over her head, wrists cuffed with his hand, her skirt hiked to her waist, battering her against the wall until she felt her grip on her surroundings slip. 

Sensation powering into sensation, light bursting behind her eyelids. 

She slammed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth as her release washed over her, a roaring, raging river, taking her under, drowning her. 

Her thighs clamped around his hips, her muscles clenching tightly around him, she could feel his thrusts growing more erratic. 

He groaned, spilling his seed inside her with a rush of warmth, sending shivers down her spine. 

And with his own release his breath was ragged in her ear. He braced her against the wall. 

She realized, when her head had cleared a little, that it was as much to keep his own balance as to hold her up.

Slowly, he eased back, studying her face as he brushed her hair aside. 

“Belle…” he whispered, voice deep and husky. 

Sweaty and sticky, they were both breathless and panting, noses almost touching, drawing in the same air in sharp breaths. 

She blinked at him, flushed, desperately trying to focus, getting lost in his eyes, rushing noises in her ear. 

The sudden softness in his voice and expression ached so much that she wanted to avert her eyes, turn away her face and body to shield herself from the pain.

He ran a hand up her leg dazedly, had her quivering once more and gently smoothed her skirt back into place. 

Then he stepped back further, leaving her longing for the contact and warmth immediately, and glanced down. Bending he picked up her ripped tights. 

“Sorry. Uh –“

The way he stood, a little embarrassed and forlorn, holding onto the sorry piece of black fabric and with color rising to his face, Belle almost found it comical. 

She might even have laughed at the utter bewilderedness and guilt on his features, had the situation not been so messed up. 

He dropped the tights and quickly zipped up his trousers. “Are you alright?”

His shy, crooked grin faltering, he stepped closer again, reaching out for her. 

His heavy-accented concern and the gentleness in his touch made her heart melt and the ache of it was more than she could bear right now. 

She shivered, her skin erupting in goose bumps. Had it not been for the wall she was still leaning against for support, she would have collapsed to the ground right then and there. 

She slowly shook her head, fresh tears welling up in her eyes.

“I don’t - know, Rumple.” 

She leaned into him as he hugged her, not ready to let go. Not ready to come back to a reality in which they could never be this close again. 

Dread and regret began to fill her. This had been a mistake, a terrible terrible mistake. It would only be so much harder now to stay away, to not want to be close, to not want to be _with_ him. 

“I am so sorry,” he whispered, holding her tight as she began to sob into his neck. “So, so sorry. For everything.” 

He did not know what else he could say to comfort her. “Please, let me protect you. Don’t shut me out... . Please, Belle.” 

The raw emotion in his voice, made her sob even harder. 

“I- I can’t.” 

She had to stop crying, but the tears would not cease. Washing up every emotion she had so carefully tied up and packed away – storing them together with his clothes, books and other items that had reminded her of him. 

Her skin felt hot and cold, her head ready to burst. 

He stroked her back, feeling the warmth of her body against his, breathing in the familiar scent and closed his eyes, listening for the sound of their heartbeats. 

_Two rhythms, two speeds_. 

Next she pulled away, leaving only a wet trail on his bare neck and shoulder.

“I can’t, Rumple, I just _can’t_. I... .” She trailed off and swallowed. “I need to leave.”

She hurriedly pulled up her panties, and picked up her bra and half-ripped blouse, looking everywhere but his face as she put both back on, buttoning the creased white thing that used to be her blouse to the best of her ability. 

Due to the missing buttons, it now left her middle bare, and Gold had to force himself to look away, not to stare at her. 

He shut his eyes again. 

A second later he could feel her rush past him, brushing his side as she did so. 

He leaned against the opposite wall, keeping his eyes closed; his breath uneven, and a dark and biting pain in his chest. 

He listened to her coat being taken from its hanger, and the clonking noise as it was hung back - _empty_. 

A few more seconds passed and he did not dare open his eyes again. Maybe if he kept them closed, he could keep her here longer. Maybe if he never opened them again, he could pretend she had never left. 

“I am sorry.” 

Startled, his eyes flew back open as he felt her touch again. 

Belle had risen on her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, her lips merely brushing his skin. 

Before he could react, however, she was gone, the door snapping shut behind her, and he was left to remain standing alone in the dark hallway - with just the trail of her scent lingering in the air and her ruined tights on the floor.

“Really?!” Ruby raised her eyebrows, nose wrinkled. She looked Belle up and down once as she slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut, then shook her head and sighed. 

Her friend looked dreadful, her eyes and lips swollen; tearstains, mascara and lipstick smears on her face – and the stench was horrible. 

Ruby took a few deep breaths through her mouth. 

Belle smiled apologetically. 

Thankfully, Ruby did not say anything else, for which she was grateful. She did not want to discuss things in front of Ivy. 

Not that Ivy would have heard, though, it seemed. Her daughter was lying on the backseat, knees raised, and listening to some angry noise from her MP3-Player, earbuds blasting. 

She had her _angry-at-world_ face on. 

Belle turned back around to face Ruby again. 

“Can we just go?” 

The sound of her own voice startled her. She sounded awful. She must have screamed herself hoarse without realizing it. Her throat felt dry and sore and she looked around hopeful for any spare water bottles, maybe lying in the footwell. There were none.

Ruby stared at her, hands frozen on the key in the ignition, disbelief still etched on her face. Disbelief mingled with a little pinch of disgust. 

Belle cringed. She had not thought about Ruby’s wolfness and her heightened senses. She really did not want to know what Ruby knew - or rather _how much_ Ruby knew. By the looks of it, it was more than Belle felt comfortable sharing.

“Please?” 

Belle hugged her coat tighter around her. She had not bothered with the tights, but with them gone and her blouse half open under her coat, she felt embarrassingly exposed and also rather cold. 

Now that the heat of the moment had passed, the ever-present cold was back, gnawing at her limbs, numbing her hands and feet, and making her shiver involuntarily every now and then. 

She felt exhausted again, drained – physically and emotionally. This was more than she could handle right now. She didn’t know how to feel or what to think anymore - and the little passionate faux pas had only complicated matters further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Sooo ... I am very nervous about this chapter. I haven't written smut in ages and it is definitely not my strong suit. I also suck at writing arguments/fights (I am one of those people who cannot fight properly) - so any tips or pointers on either would be greatly appreciated.
> 
>  
> 
> _Gimme that feedback - what did you guys think?_


	14. Girl Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Belle and Ruby have a long overdue talk and the other side makes a first appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N** : Mea Culpa, dear readers! This took even longer than last time and I am terribly sorry for that. Life is currently making it impossible to maintain a regular update schedule, but I have not abandoned this fic (and have no plans of doing so).

### Chapter 14: Girl Talk

Belle put her head beneath the water, drowning out all sound but that of her own heartbeat temporarily. The strong spray of hot water felt so good on her tight shoulders and the back of her neck. She did not care that it stung against her skin, tuning it bright red. She turned the water up as hot as possible, as if the sting against her skin could somehow erase the sting of her conscience for having allowed that moment of weakness to happen. The heat, however pleasant, failed to make her forget. On the contrary, it only amplified the echoes of his touch - each bruise, scratch and love bite a sharp reminder of where his mouth, his hands had traveled over her body, of where he had claimed her. _How could something so wrong have felt so right?_ Eyes closed, she could almost still feel him, could almost still smell him. She had worked so hard to keep the thought of him from her mind. Trained herself not to flinch away every time she had looked into her daughter's face and had found him staring back at her through Ivy’s eyes. Now he was everywhere and there was no escape.

Pounding on the door made her jump, hitting her elbow on the faucet. 

“Belle – You still in there?” Ruby’s voice was muffled by the door. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that when I said … come on out, okay? We need to talk.”

Belle did not answer. She knew that Ruby only meant well, but she did not feel like talking or like leaving the warmth of the shower right now.

“Listen, if you’re not coming out of there in the next ten minutes, I am coming in!” The doorknob rattled “You’ve been in there for hours. Do you have fins and gills yet?”

Belle groaned internally. If she knew one thing it was that Ruby would indeed kick that door open if she chose to ignore her friend for much longer.

“I mean it, girl. I don’t care if you’re butt-naked in there!” More pounding on the door “I also brought food.”

Belle rolled her eyes. As if food would persuade her to open that door. There was a hollow feeling in her stomach and she wasn’t quite sure when she had last eaten or had had something to drink, but she still wasn’t particularly hungry. After quickly rinsing the conditioner from her hair, she allowed herself a last minute of bliss just standing under the stream of water, but Ruby would not let her have another second of peace. 

“Did you hear what I said? You better not be ignoring me, Belle!”

“I heard you just fine. Give me a sec!” Sighing, Belle shut the water off and grabbed a large white fluffy towel from the peg. She dried off and dressed in a rush, not trusting Ruby’s silence. Already shivering by the time she got changed into her T-shirt and sweatpants, her hands shook when she grabbed the blow-dryer and plugged it in. The blast of warm air chased away some of the chill as she bent over and ran her fingers through her damp hair. She made sure it was almost completely dry before turning off the dryer, but missed the heat immediately. Then she put on some woolen socks and unlocked the door.

Ruby sat on the bed, arms and legs crossed, the upper leg bobbing up and down. There was a large platter with sandwiches next to her and a couple of soda cans lay higgledy-piggledy on the pushed-aside duvet. When she spotted Belle, she patted the spot across from her, motioning for Belle to take a seat. 

_Oh, no._ this was either supposed to be an intervention or an interrogation and Belle felt like neither of those things. She just wanted to sleep. Rubbing her arms, she shuffled over to the bed and sat down cross-legged regardless. Ruby held out a coke can, which she took, but didn’t open. 

“So- care to explain what the heck is going on with you?” Ruby opened her own drink and took a sip, her eyes never leaving Belle’s face. Belle squirmed. 

“Where is Ivy?” she looked around.

“My room, permanently damaging her hearing. Don’t change the subject” Ruby tapped her can with the nails of her left hand “Gave you a few hours, took the kid downstairs to dinner, but now it’s time for some girl talk. Spill!”

Belle rolled her shoulders, looking anywhere but back at Ruby’s face and put the can down.

“What happened to _just going to get Ivy real quick?_ ” Ruby prompted.

Belle shrugged.

“Oh, come on Belle. What happened in there?”

Ruby was merciless. Didn’t she know already? Why did she need for Belle to say it out loud? Belle looked at her, eyes pleading. 

“You two are seriously messed up, you know that, right?” Ruby blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. “It’s none of my business, maybe – only it is. You are my best friend and Ivy is my Goddaughter. I _care_ , Belle.”

“I don’t know what it is.”

“So it’s _something_.”

“Maybe – I don’t know!” Belle exclaimed.

“Look, I am in no position to judge. That’s not what I want to do. I am just worried.” Ruby reached out to touch Belle’s arm “You don’t eat, you don’t sleep. I know what you went through – you and Ivy – and now you’re just running back into his arms? I don’t get it.”

Belle jerked her arm away. She was _not_ running back to him! She pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

“Hey, whoa!” Ruby smiled at her, free hand resting on Belle’s knee instead “Not what I am saying at all. I am the last person to get a say in relationship advice. I _ate_ my last boyfriend!” Ruby raised one eyebrow “By accident, but still.”

Ruby laughed, but Belle knew that this part of her history still troubled her best friend deeply – even if she tried to make light of it. “Maybe I should try _that_ , see if it helps.” She said dryly.

Ruby snorted. “0 out of 10, would not recommend.” She sat her drink down and helped herself to one the sandwiches she had brought. Ham and pickles. “You should eat something.” She looked at Belle encouragingly “Ivy even made you a couple of PB&J ones - special.”

Belle sighed. Just the idea of food made her queasy. For some reason the thought of taking a bite of an innocent sandwich was appalling and made her stomach turn. Maybe it was the smell, or the taste or the texture. She had always had trouble eating properly when she was stressed or worried. Belle looked at the pile of sandwiches again, miserably. She could tell which ones her daughter had made – those had jam dripping from the sides and were cut unevenly. The sight brought tears to her eyes. She really _was_ a mess.

“The kid is pretty mad” Ruby took another bite of her sandwich “and confused.”

“That makes two of us” Belle still stared at the sandwiches, but did not take one.

Ruby swallowed “Alright” she tapped Belle’s knee again to get Belle’s attention “I hate to do this, but do I need to remind you, who's the adult here?” her voice was a little stern now “You know I love you to bits, but you need to put on your big girl panties now and get your act together!”

Belle felt the tears sting her eyes. Ruby was right, of course, but how would she pull herself together when she was all over the place like this right now? “I know. It’s stupid.” She lowered her head.

“That’s not what I am saying. You just need to make up your mind here.” Belle could hear from her tone that Ruby was trying her best to remain calm and patient.

“About what? There isn’t much to decide, is there?!” Belle’s voice came shriller than she had intended, which made Ruby shoot her a warning look.

“For starters, it wouldn’t hurt if you told your daughter what you are feeling for her father.”

Belle gaped at the other woman, who flipped her long hair back peevishly.

“Don’t look at me like that! I am neither blind nor do I lack sense of smell - _God, I wish I did!_ ” she shuddered.

“I –“ Belle blushed “That’s -“

“Okay, enough!” Ruby uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, placing both hands on Belle’s knees. “I would ask you what had gotten into you, if I didn’t already have a very good idea about that. You know, I’ll be here for you and Ivy not matter what, but I am personally going to kick your butt if you keep this up. Time to face the music!”

“But –“ Belle ran a hand through her tangled hair.

“What do you _want_ Belle?”

Belle blinked confusedly. 

“Do you want to leave?” Ruby pressed.

“As if that’s even an option?” Belle mumbled.

“We’ll make it one, if that’s what you want.” 

Belle hesitated.

“You don’t want to leave.”

Belle wanted to contradict Ruby’s statement, say that - quite to the contrary - she very much wanted to leave New York. Maybe go back home – or really just go anywhere, where _he_ would not be. Go anywhere she would never have to see him again – but she couldn’t. Although part of her wished nothing more than to tear herself and Ivy away from him and up and leave this city; wished to forget everything that had happened and everything she felt; she also knew that she would never have been able to turn her back on him once more. Not now that she had heard his voice and touched his face and felt his lips on hers again. Not now, when his trace was all over her soul and body – both pain and comfort. Not now that he knew he had a daughter. She could not be so cruel to take his child away from him – not now that he knew that she existed. Also there was that horrid deal Rumple had made that was hanging over everybody’s heads. Belle sighed.

“So, we’re staying then” Ruby nodded. “Okay. What about him?”

There was another pause, in which Belle gnawed her bottom lip and Ruby tried to keep eye contact.  
Belle finally looked down at her hands in her lap and picked her soda can back up to have something to clutch and fumble with “He does not want me.” It hurt to say it out loud, but maybe it was time to come back to earth and face the facts. What did it really matter what she wanted – or had wanted?

“Bullshit!” Ruby chortled and Belle stared at her incredulously “People who don’t give a damn don’t bang the stuffing out of each other like that!”

Damned be Ruby and her big mouth. Belle flushed and felt her cheeks burn. “But –“

“My dear Belle, do I really have to explain the basics of attraction to you?” Ruby was giggling now “You know - _the birds and the bees, the flowers …_ ” Ruby laughed even harder.

Belle wanted to strangle her.

Suddenly, Ruby stopped laughing, face deadpan. Belle played with her can’s lid nervously.

“Oh God, I’m going to sound awfully like Granny” Ruby breathed “Just let me get this out real quick, okay?”

Belle gulped.

“Did you, uh –“ her friend took a deep breath, then rushed the words out, one long string of sounds “ _Didyouguysuseanyfreakin’protection?_ ”

There was a loud plop and a whizzing sound and a brown stain crawling and growing ever larger on the white sheets between them. They both ignored it. Belle clapped her hands to her mouth, mortified. Ruby smacked her own forehead with her palm in response.

“THE FUCK, Belle!”

Belle stared at the stain wide-eyed, heart pounding. _How could they have…? How could she have…? Oh, Gods._. She frantically tried to remember the last time she had bled. How long had that been? There hadn’t exactly been a reason to keep track, oh, for the last 14 years or so. She hadn’t dated much. There had been some dalliances, quick flings here and there –out of need, out of yearning for company and intimacy, but it had never worked out. Belle wasn’t sure why. Maybe it had been her; maybe she had been too broken to be put back together. Maybe she had _wanted_ to remain shattered. She had been alone for so long, there had really been no need to pay attention to the coming and going of her moon time. It hadn’t mattered. Horrorstruck, Belle lifted her gaze to meet Ruby’s.

“Oh, Jeez, Belle, don’t look at me like Bambi caught in the headlights! You’re a grown-ass woman!” Ruby suppressed another laugh.

Belle furrowed her brows. How was this a laughing matter? Her insides clenched with dread. _What if…? What would she do?_

“There is such a thing as the morning after pill, you know.” Ruby rolled her eyes at her.

Belle did not understand. What _pill_ was Ruby referring to and how did it apply to her situation? It was hardly morning? “The _what_?”

“You’re kidding me” Ruby burst out laughing at the look of utter horror mingled with confusion on Belle’s face at last “You are a doll, but Granny would have a field day with you.”

Belle’s lower lip quivered. How was any of this amusing?

“Hey” Ruby touched her knees again “Calm down. Honestly, it’s going to be fine.”

Belle looked doubtful.

“You really don’t know, do you?”

Belle shook her head.

“Oh boy. Okay.” Ruby exhaled “Look. The morning after pill has to be taken within 72 hours and will prevent a pregnancy by preventing or delaying ovulation.”

“Is it safe?”

“Side-effects can be a little awful, but they don’t last long. The pill will make a pregnancy roughly 75% less likely.”

Belle’s heart was still racing. She felt stupid for not knowing anything about this. She probably ought to have known, but she had not had her mother around long enough to teach her about these things – or maybe it was a realm thing? She did not know. Her father had never provided her with a childhood nurse after her mother’s death, claiming that she was a young lady and in no need of such care anymore. She only had had a strict governess, who kept a watchful eye on her manners and education, continuing her mother’s work of teaching Belle different languages and lessoning her on other realms, their customs and traditions. Although Belle was a quick and eager study, she had sorely missed someone to confide in, someone to come to with her silly qualms and questions. 

Being left to her own devices, she had turned to her trusty books for help when the blood had first appeared – mere months after the funeral, but after her return form Arendelle. She had read about ancient blood spells and rituals performed – and about virgin sacrifices made (that had both fascinated and repulsed her). There had been books on amazon cultures that celebrated the first blood as a rite of passage and worshiped womanhood. Belle had learned about moon cycles and herbs and plants that would sooth cramps, breast tenderness or headaches - if collected in accordance with the cycle and brewed a certain way to create an elixir. She knew how to restrict, how to contain the flow, so it would not spoil her fine garments and had had to figure out the best way to remove shameful accidental stains (knowledge which had come in handy during her time as maid in the Dark Castle doing the Dark One’s laundry). 

Of course, the books had spoken of conception too. She had found prayers to the Gods for fertility and blessings to be bestow upon a young bride for producing a strong and healthy heir. There had been entire chapters devoted to warn the reader against magical interference in such natural matters and long lists of likely side-effects of different magical means - such as spells, potions or pixie dust - employed against all reason. All books had advised strongly against any use of magic in the matter and harshly condemned cross-species unions or breeding. They had provided quite some pointers on contraception methods, although most spoke ill of most of them. There had been a variety of more or less effective potions, spells and charms and some none-magical options depicted, that had made her blood run cold. Weird looking objects made of animal skin or bones, mostly. Some plant-based inventions too.

Although Belle had spent hours researching in the library, the knowledge she had remained very abstract and theoretical. As it was custom, Belle, being a high-born lady had never made the acquaintance of questionable young men nor had had any dubious relations with them. She had been raised to believe in the sanctuary of marriage, which allowed the meeting of earthly needs and the satisfaction of desires of the flesh only after an intimate bond had been created between husband and wife. 

Little had she known, young and gullible. She had broken those very rules, allowed her master and wooer to deflower her, long before betrothal. Yet, hadn’t a deal that bound her to him for life technically been almost the same as an exchange of vows, she had wondered, and hadn’t they been true love, which would surely trump any man-made union – a priest’s or priestess’ blessing given or not. 

With how things went she had never had to worry or think twice about preventing a pregnancy – in the old world or the new. She had not given the matter any real thought at all – which might have been foolish. After marriage the thought of pregnancy hadn’t even crossed her mind once – there had been so much going on.

She knew some things, of course, but nothing about others. Parts of this this world and how women were supposed to behave here, still remained foreign to her – and in the past she had often found herself too ashamed to ask about them. She might have asked Rumple or Ruby if she had dared, but she had rather kept her silence, turned to the books and observed other women in town. And now this was where it had gotten her. She still did not know enough. Belle lowered her head in shame and confusion, feeling like a young foolish girl.

“How do you know all this?” she whispered.

“Granny told me.” Ruby replied “Worst talk of my life.” She said reminiscently “For her too, probably.” The corners of her mouth twitched.

Belle smiled weakly. “Maybe she did not fancy becoming a great-grandmother too soon?”

“I believe that was the main motivational factor behind her God-awful speech, yes” Ruby smirked “Personally, I don’t get what the fuss was about. I would have been smart about things either way. No fuzzy wolf cubs for me, thank you very much. There is no way in hell I would not have passed that furry-gene on.”

“Ivy likes the furry” Belle offered, her smile warmer now.

“True” Ruby laughed “I am her favorite furry friend. In fact, I am her _only_ furry friend.” 

She kept on laughing, but Belle did not fail to notice that it seemed a little forced. They had never really talked about this, about having children, and Belle secretly wondered whether maybe Ruby did actually want a baby of her own - yet was too scared to ever give it a serious consideration.

“What _do_ you know about contraception, though?” Ruby asked suddenly, head cocked to the side and expression curious.

Belle blushed scarlet again. She stammered something about condoms and herbal essences, spells and moon stones, before Ruby stopped her again, grinning broadly.

“Forgive me, but your sex-ed seems to have been rather other-realmly – and it’s a tad dusty, M’lady”

Belle threw one of the little pillows at her friend “Oh, don’t mock me! I feel stupid enough as it is!”

Ruby dodged it, still grinning “Alright, alight – Just promise me to have me around when you plan on giving Ivy _that_ talk. Just to be safe.”

Belle goggled at her friend, the wind knocked out of her momentarily. _Ivy? But … Ivy was only a child? Surely, her baby girl wasn’t thinking about …?_

“Don’t give me that look!” Ruby protested “Ivy is 15. It’s high time, if you ask me. Better safe than sorry, _grandma_.”

“Not funny.” Belle shook her head vigorously.

“I am right, though.” Ruby shrugged “You know, she’s been asking me questions … .”

“She _what_? She has?”

“Made me swear I wouldn’t tell.”

Belle’s face fell a little. “Oh.” The thought of Ivy becoming sexually active terrified her, but at the same time she would have wanted her daughter to feel safe to come to her if she had questions. They would figure it out together. Belle would certainly have drawn comfort from having a mother to turn to, to talk to about those private matters - had she been in her daughter’s shoes. It was a good thing, though, that Ivy _had_ chosen to talk to an adult, had confided in Ruby, in her Godmother – even if Belle would have wished that she had chosen her to talk to first instead. She felt a little pang learning that her daughter had decided against coming to her first.

“Don’t worry. All very innocent. Otherwise, I would have told you” Ruby reassured “Rather embarrassed about it too, the pup. Pretends to be older and wiser than she is, little smart-ass.”

“We should talk more” Belle sighed “but whenever I try, she slams the door in my face - _literally_.”

Ruby considered her for a moment, her voice very sincere when she spoke again “Have you considered that she’s not letting you in, because you are keeping doors shut on her?”

Belle did not understand. Which doors was she keeping shut? “I don’t – what do you mean?”

“Secrets, Belle. Children don’t like secrets kept from them. It’s like they can sense them with their whole tiny bodies. They smell them, sniff them out. They have this natural urge to _uncover_ everything that is supposed to stay covered and hidden.” Ruby pushed some hair behind her right ear “I always knew that Granny loved me very much, but ever since I could remember there was this void between us that we couldn’t bridge. I did not know what it was, but sensed it all the same – and it infuriated me, because it scared the living shit out of me – so I acted up.”

“You think Ivy is scared?”

“You need to tell her about her father, Belle. She needs the truth, the whole story.”

“But –“ Belle bit her lower lip.

“Would you like to have to make do with only half the story? With missing pieces? With questions nobody is able or willing to answer?” Ruby did not wait for her answer “Can you really blame her for seeking him out?”

“No” Belle turned to look at Ivy’s yellow backpack on the floor “You’re right.” Ruby _was_ right. Ivy deserved to know the truth. She had a right to know. He was part of her story too. If Belle kept that part from her, Ivy would always be missing a piece. Would always wonder, would always ask questions that couldn’t be answered. Belle knew what that felt like. She had never stopped thinking about her mother and the circumstances of her death. Her father’s explanations of having wanted to spare her the pain and grief of the memory – she had never really bought that. The real memory had been lost to her and she had never been able to regain it on her own, but she had never stopped wondering either. Her father claimed that he had only wanted to _protect_ her. The word left a bitter taste in Belle’s mouth, just by thinking it. Hadn’t she herself used the same explanation, the same lame _excuse_ numerous times before? Was she really doing what was best for Ivy by shielding her from the truth? Ivy had her and she had Ruby. She would not break learning that her father had once chosen magic over them.

“But how do I even explain - _that_ ?” Belle gestured a little helplessly with her hands. Yes, how was she going to explain? How would she find the right words and get it all _just right_ in time, before Ivy could shut her out again or freak out? Maybe Ivy would not want to hear what she had to say - _not anymore? Not ever?_

“No chickening out!” Ruby narrowed her eyes as though she had just read Belle’s thoughts. “She needs this. You need this.”

Belle groaned. “When did you become so annoyingly wise?”

Ruby wanted to say _‘The minute you dropped your brain for that damn man!’_ – One of them had to be the reasonable, rational woman here – but thought better of it at the last minute and just smiled vaguely, then shrugged.

“Seesh, nonsense.” She flapped her hands at thin air “You - take a bloody sandwich now and then get your butt over to that sulking teenager currently occupying _my_ room!” she pointed at the plate and then at the door “I’ll go for a quick run and stop by a pharmacy or drug store for you.”

After another quarter of an hour, during which they had sat quietly - Ruby overseeing that Belle did indeed finish her PB&J sandwich - Ruby and Belle both walked over to Ruby’s room up the hallway. When they entered, Ivy lay on the bed on her stomach, feet in the air, nose in a book and earbuds in place. She didn’t even look up when Belle sat down on the bed next to her and tentatively stroked her back. Ruby shook her head. Those two pig-headed idiots would someday be the death of her.

She quickly exchanged her Jeans for leggings and pulled on her fleece, then slipped into her blood-red running shoes and laced them up. She’d give them some space and see whether she could get a morning pill over the counter for Belle before stores closed – if they closed. Ruby wasn’t sure about stores in New York City. She grabbed her keycard and credit card and slipped out of the room quietly. 

Her muscles were stiff from sitting around all day and ached for some action. She took the stairs down to the lobby to get her heart-rate up and stepped outside into the bright and clear evening. The sun was just about to set. She knew that the chill that was in the air would eventually turn into freezing cold night, but the cold had never bothered her. Maybe it was a wolf thing, but she was always comfortably warm. Ruby stretched a few times, then began to run down the street, her stride easy and even and her breathing calm and controlled. She had an excellent sense of direction and would always find her way back – no matter which route she wound choose. She avoided the turn for the main road and continued to follow a twisty, winding path through the backstreets. There was less sound from traffic here, and the only sounds she heard, apart from her own breathing, were the continual scurrying noises of rats and mice between dumpsters, some pigeons, distant jazz music and somebody shouting through an open window. Ruby sped up and enjoyed the sensation of cool air on her face. 

Suddenly a loud howl cut through the evening air and Ruby stopped dead. Before she could do anything but spin around to locate the source, more howling and barking erupted. Confused, Ruby stood, rooted to the spot and listening. Usually she had very little trouble understanding dogs and could even communicate with them because of her lycanthropic nature, but either these dogs barked in a foreign language or in some sort of code, or she was losing her touch. She could make out strings of letters and numbers, but they made no sense to her. Then everything went quiet again for a few minutes. Ruby turned and sped off in the direction of traffic. She’d locate a drug store, make her purchase and hurry back to Ivy and Belle. The on and off barking (followed by angry shouting humans, sticking their red heads out of windows and brandishing their fists) made her feel uneasy. She had no real reason for it, but the hairs on her neck which were standing on end.

====== 

“They are moving, the wolf and the Dark One” she said excitedly, jumping up from her stool at the open window and turning towards him, her face distorted with some kind of wild happiness “They are breaking the deal!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands and rubbing them together “Now I can punish them.” Her eyes gleamed menacingly.

“Let them move” He said in a bored voice “and calm the fuck down.”

The tall woman glowered at him, making clawing gestures at his face with her red-gloved hands, but he ignored her.

“All eyes, ears and noses are on them?” he asked unfazed, running a big, strong hand through his blond hair idly.

“Every last canine’s in this godforsaken hell-hole of a city, yes.” She said proudly.

“Good. Then they can’t go anywhere or do anything without my knowledge - _our_ knowledge” he amended and the woman cackled loudly. He would have told her to shut up, but he did not much fancy a row with her right now - he already had a terrible headache, and he still needed her and her unique abilities and unhinged mind to do his dirty work. He would have to put up with her crazy for a little while longer.

“Do you always have to do that when you get excited, Cru?” he asked in a droning voice, his piercing blue eyes cold.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to call me that, _handsome_.” She snarled stepping closer soft-footed and started circling him in his armchair. Her eye teeth flashed white in the dimly lit room. 

He closed his eyes in frustration for a moment and breathed out through his nose. Why did she have to _be_ like that? “My apologies” he waved her threatening demeanor away with a lazy hand “Now, will you please concentrate on the incoming intel? I don’t speak dog.”

She growled deep in her throat once more, but did as she was told and resumed her position by the open window to listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N** : I've messed around with the timeline again. My personal headcanon has always been that Belle did lose her mother when she was younger (younger than in the flashbacks), so I've decided to move that fatal ogre-attack to when Belle was a teenager (roughly Ivy's age), creating a larger gap between the death of Colette and Rumple's deal for Belle (in skin deep). Just so you know. ;)


	15. Moon Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time, Belle and Ruby had a long talk and Ruby went for a run.  
> Now it's time to walk the talk.

After de-mule-ification - which had really just been them sitting around at home and waiting it out - Emma and Regina had headed over to St. Meissa, while Henry had taken Neal and his friends home.

When he joined his mothers a little while later, they and the fairies had gathered around the largest table in the convent’s library. Open books lay scattered everywhere and the strange pearls sat in a clear crystal bowl in the middle. He wasn’t entirely sure, but it appeared some had grown in size. Seven mismatched silver marbles.

He took a seat. Nova smiled at him.

“So, they are -- _wishes_?” Regina was asking.

“Not exactly,” Blue said. “They are _coated_ in believe magic, but the _core_ could be something else entirely.”

" _Believe magic_ \---” Tinkerbell gazed at the glistening marble sitting on her palm. It was easily the biggest of the lot. “I _like_ that kind.”

“Of course you would,” The Blue Fairy shot her a disapproving look. “But it’s been tampered with, Green, it’s not _safe_ -”

Before Tink could protest the moniker, Emma chimed in with “Ear, ear!” She screwed up her face and leaned further back in her seat, as if to put as much distance as humanly possible between the offensive foundlings and herself.

Henry exchanged looks with his other mom and they both smirked.

“Some have been --- _activated_ ,” Blue went on, not taking her eyes off Tink’s hands, which were happily playing with the pearl, rolling it between them like a scoop of cookie dough. “But by what or whom, we don't kno-”

“Um,” Indignant, Emma pointed at herself, “ _Me_ , for starters. But - _why_ me?” Her face fell and Regina stifled a chuckle to a cough, convincing no one. Emma’s eyes narrowed. “If it’s a _Savior_ -thing - I swear to God --- I don’t need _that_ again!”

“ _Emma_ -thing, probably” Regina corrected. “The Snow Queen, _Ingrid_ \- wanted you and your magic, not the title. It’s her curse.” She flipped her hair back and turned a couple pages at random. “We just need to figure out how to break it. All curses-”

“ _Can be broken_. Yeah. Been there, done that, remember? Multiple times.” Emma sighed. “How are we back here again?”

“Maybe love can fix it?” Nova asked. “True Love _does_ break any curse.” She looked up and down the table, a hopeful smile on her face. “Maybe, if we found the right couple-”

“Unlikely,” Blue shook her head. “The pearls suggest otherwise.”

“We can hardly open a public kissing-booth and keep everyone at it until key finds lock,” Regina agreed - and this time it was Emma who sniggered.

“What if everyone kissed at the same time?” Tinkerbell asked. “Make it short-circuit?”

A few fairies nodded. Blue looked skeptical.

“A --- _kissing flash mob_?” Henry asked, eyes on his mothers. “Could be worth a try.”

“If it were a regular curse - maybe. But the _pearls_ \---” Blue began.

“I don’t think that’ll work ---” Regina and Blue eyed each other warily. This was a first. They never agreed on anything.

After a moment of tense silence, Regina slammed her book shut, the gush of air rippling the pages like autumn leaves. Then she reached for another heavy tome from the pile to her left, brows furrowed.

Blue cleared her throat, nodded, and the fairies went back to their reading as well.

Elbows on the open book in front of her, resting her head on her hands, Emma stared off into space.

Nobody spoke. Henry watched the marbles.

“Emma!” With a bang, the door swung open, a furious Snow striding into the room with Charming at her heels.

To his left, Tinkerbell shrieked, dropping the pearl she had been chasing around her palm, like it had burned her. It zig-zagged across the table, dodging book piles, the bowl, and all human and fairy hands attempting its capture, and purposefully crashed into Emma’s elbow, causing her to wince and curse, before she managed to trap it between her fingers like an insolent insect.

“It - it _bit_ me?” Tink murmured, sucking on the offended patch of skin, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Snow frowned, turning to Emma. “Emma, what ---? Neal said- _ice cream_ ?” She looked back and forth between her immediate family, then indicated the glass bowl that had everyone’s attention. “What _are_ those?”

The pearls glowed white.

“Careful!” Blue cautioned. “ _Unsafe_. It would be best to-”  

Emma didn’t react, just kept staring at her capture, transfixed.

“Emma?” Charming stepped beside Snow and placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “It’s alright, your mother just meant-”

The pearls stopped glowing.

“Wait! Get back over there!” Regina’s voice was sharp, a whip cracking through the stuffy air. All heads whipped around to look at her. All, but Emma’s. Regina gestured impatiently.

Confused, Charming took a step back, then another one. After the third, the glow returned and gradually grew brighter until it had become a steady light pulse- like a heartbeat. These were no hearts. But were they- _alive_?

Going with her gut feeling rather than her brain, Regina instructed, “hold your hand out over the bowl.”

She didn’t know what made her say it, but when Charming did, a small pearl shot right up into his palm, as if pulled by invisible string. The instant silver touched skin, the remaining pearls stilled and dulled. Nothing but very smooth, very round, decorative pebbles in a glass bowl.

“We - have a --- _match_?” Regina said tentatively, as taken aback as everyone else that her hunch had led to a result. A result she didn’t fully understand yet.

“The hell?” Emma stretched her arms above her, twisting her fingers together, and not bothering to cover her mouth as she succumbed to a yawning fit. She rolled her shoulders. Fresh air would do her good - do them all good - or a Good Night’s sleep. They really had been down here for _way_ too long.

“Good question,” Charming mumbled between his own yawns, free hand firmly clasped over his mouth.

Either he was the only compassionate person in the room or whatever strange enchantment the Snow Queen’s pearls held was revealing itself, Regina thought, watching father and daughter enter an involuntary yawning contest. Another sleeping curse? That was _odd_.

“David? Emma?” Snow, somehow, had the presence of mind to pull out a chair and sit down. _Good_.

 _The magic in the room_. She felt its breath on her skin, sinking into every pore. _Strong, strange…_ _shifting_.

“Wait a minute-” Fog in her brain, and the strong urge to rest her head on her arms and close her eyes cut her off mid-sentence and mid-thought. She had meant to say something, tell them all something, warn them about... .

======

Gold had finally settled into his armchair and opened the paper, when the doorbell rang. He wanted to go and answer it, but found movement no longer to be a possibility. Try as he might, he couldn’t even blink an eye. He swallowed and stared at his hands. Ghostly white knuckles clutching this morning’s news by the crumpled margins. _An ink-on-paper-made lifeline to save him from the speechless, breathless void_ . Studying the shape of his fingernails for a moment, and wondering at their oddly discolored roundness, he heard the bell ring a second time. The sound seemed to be coming from much farther away now, farther than his dark, narrow hallway. _Only an echo, a distant memory, a dream_.

He sat and he stared. Waited. Listened. He didn’t dare lower the paper - not yet - the words safely kept between himself and the outside world like a shield. He wasn’t ready. Perhaps he’d never be ready.

Perhaps on the next ring.

The bell didn’t ring again. He got up anyway.

She looked just as beautiful as she had the day before, and stood almost as close to him as she had then, bundled up in a thick scarf and coat. The weather had changed overnight and temperatures dropped dramatically, the cold painting her cheeks with harsh, broad brushstrokes. _Red apple and soft peach on very pale canvas_.

“Good evening, Rumple,” she said, a little breathless. “Can we come in? We need to talk.” Her words were white mist, hanging in the night between them, and he wanted to capture and keep them forever, drink every last sound until his thirst would be quelled. Everything in this moment was Belle and Belle was _everything_.

“Rumple?”

 _Talk_. Right. He wasn’t sure he remembered how to do that. He nodded and stepped aside to let them in. Belle, Ivy and-

“Miss Lucas.”

“Gold.”

Since their arrival in the city, they hadn’t exchanged a word and he had nothing to say to her now either. The silence was mutual. Miss Lucas was here for Belle and Belle only, and that was perfectly fine with him. He’d tolerate her here, if he had to, if her presence meant Belle's - and Ivy’s.

There was a beat as they sized each other up. He’d never paid the girl- _woman_ \- much attention. She hadn’t been important to find Baelfire, hadn’t played a vital part in getting Emma Swan to stay in town and break the curse. For a fleeting moment, however, her stepping over his threshold stirred something familiar and bittersweet in him, reminding him of another home in another town, another life he used to live and wasn’t sure if he felt sick of or sick for. Then, the thought vanished, the feeling replaced by darker and dirtier sentiments. Memories he’d rather not wake from their slumber. He had never truly been one of them and he never would be.

“Should we- ?” Belle looked up at him. She had stepped out of one heel, was balancing her weight on the other. _Just a guest_. They were guests in his home, visitors, come to soon leave again - and good guests took off their shoes at the door.

Ivy, by Belle’s side, hadn’t bothered, her hands buried deep in her pockets, jacket firmly zipped all the way up and shoes laced in criss-cross pattern. She didn’t look at him.

“No, no, it’s fine. Just-” he gestured towards the living room like it weren’t the obvious - the only - choice.

“Right,” Belle fumbled with her shoe, sliding back into it, and straightened up. “Thank you.”

Ivy rolled her eyes.

“Through here then, is it?” Miss Lucas said, leading the little procession into the living area. “Cozy,” She took in her surroundings, some private joke tugging at the corners of her mouth. He was suddenly very aware of the dishes sitting in the sink. “Small. I guess it’s different living in the city?” With a half-shrug, she plopped down on the sofa. Ivy copied her, crossed her arms and stretched her legs out in front of her to rest her feet on the coffee table. Dirty rubber soles and all.

His mouth fell open.

“Ivy!” Belle threw him a quick apologetic smile, then turned her attention to their daughter. “Shoes. Manners.”

Ivy glanced at her - lazily, as if with great effort - and slowly kicked off her trainers with her foot, sending them leaping over the table and crashing onto the carpet, splattering everything in tiny mud particles.

Gold caught Miss Lucas’ eye. _Funny_. Apparently, this was funny? Strangely, he found he felt like laughing too, but it couldn’t have been from amusement.

Everyone looked at Belle.

“Apologize to your father. Now.” Belle’s voice was thin, but sharp. A blade ground and honed on stone a little too long. _Your father_. Gold’s stomach dropped out. “And then you can ask for something to clean this mess with.”

“It’s fine. Bucket, rags and towels under the sink.” The words were out of his mouth before he knew it, and he wanted to take them back the instant Belle’s eyebrows shot up in mute warning.

“It’s not _fine_ ,” she said. “Besides, this little show is for my benefit not yours.”

“And you know that how?!” Ivy had gotten up and walked past her mother, bubblegum bubble poised between her teeth like a loaded gun. She let it pop. “You don’t know that. You don’t know _anything_!”

“Ivy!” He and Miss Lucas spoke at the same time.

Belle raised her hands. _Stay out of it_.

 _No_. No, he would not. Ivy was his daughter too.

“Sure, take her side. _Whatever_.” Ivy glared over her shoulder, then bent her knees to grab the first thing from the cabinet. Paper towels.

An example of poised tension, Belle stood by the sofa, cradling her scarf and coat. He watched her, watched her closely, spotted the shudder that she suppressed so efficiently, it became almost imperceptible to the untrained eye; and he caught the cough, masterfully passed off as clearing of the throat, and saw the shadows dance under her eyes.    

“Put that down and come here, please.”

Ivy paused, hesitated. “What? That the wrong kind?” she asked, dumping the towels onto the sink. This wasn’t about paper towels or tracking mud all over his living room. She did turn and walk towards him, but her eyes were playing tag, dodging his at every turn.

“You will pick up your shoes, put them where they belong-” he held out the newspaper for her to take “-this should prevent further mudbaths on my furniture-” reached for the zipper of her jacket to give it a gentle, but decisive tug “-same goes for your jacket. It’s more than warm enough in here.” He steered Ivy back toward the sofa by her shoulders. “Be so kind as to take your mother’s coat with you as well.”

“But-”

Belle stepped forward, letting go of the sofa and handing over her coat. _Heavy, tired steps, fighting for unstable equilibrium_. He had to fight off the urge to rush to her side. “Thank you.” Gratitude meant for Ivy, not him.

“ _Fine_.” Scarf and coat carefully balanced on cast, newspaper in one hand and trainers in the other, Ivy toddled off into the hallway, muttering under her breath. He smiled softly.

Belle looked at him then - as if she were gathering the courage to speak, to say something that he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear - and he felt his heart rate pick up a beat, but then, instead, she just ducked her head and walked past him to the open sink cabinet. He watched her fumble with the hot water tap.

“Ball some up and stuff it in! Makes them dry faster!” Apparently, Miss Lucas had decided that the coast was clear and it was safe to holler again. And, also apparently, Ivy had more than two parents. Or people who thought of themselves as such.

“You came here to talk?” he said, addressing Belle’s back rather than Miss Lucas, but it was the latter who answered, “Yes. Belle filled me in-” his eyes darted to Belle’s tense shoulders, back hunched over the sink to fill the small plastic bucket. _No, not on that_. “-and we’re not leading the crazy lady back home. No way.”

A snarl ready on his tongue, he opened his mouth to retort.

“There has to be a way to alter the terms, Rumple,” Belle interjected, turning around to face him. The bucket had replaced her coat and her face was flushed from the steam. _Cold, she was cold_.

Biting his tongue, he let her pass him again and went as if to rummage for some rags, but reached up for the kettle to fill it with fresh water. _Tea. They could all use some tea_. Waiting for the water to boil on the stove, he got out a tray and set a little silver teapot, a sugar-dish, a cream-jug, and four dainty cups and saucers of egg-shell china on it. “It’s too dangerous. You can’t haggle with Cruella.”

Belle set down the bucket and sat beside Ruby. “We might, if we know what she’s after-” She pulled down her cardigan sleeves to cover her hands and rubbed at a tiny speck of mud on the upholstery. _The thermostat didn’t go any higher._

“The town.”

“To do what with?” Miss Lucas shot him a dark look as he placed the tray - minus kettle - on the table. “She sounds like a nut-job. Hardly mayor material.”

“I don’t know.” And neither did he care. His only concern was to protect his family. His deal granted them safety. For now.

“ _And you don’t care_ . Look, Gold, I get it. Hold a grudge if you want-” _how generous_ “-but there have to be _options_.” She flipped her hair back over her shoulder.

“None that I know of.” The kettle whistled behind him and he returned with the boiling water. “Tea?”

“Rumple…” Belle’s voice was brittle, barely above a whisper, and her lips puffed out, showing the early signs of dehydration. He all but pressed a cup of hot tea on her.

Miss Lucas’ face bore the same concern and exasperation he felt tugging at his heartstrings, but didn’t dare show openly. They exchanged a quick glance over the pouring of more tea.

“There isn’t much I can do, Belle,” he tried, softer, voice as pleasant and calm as he could muster. “Not with the little information I have. Not without… _magic_."

Her hands curled tightly around the cup in her lap, Belle went rigid at the mention of the word. Her face was flushed red and her skin glistened in a way that had him really, really worried.

“I cleaned them in the tub,” Ivy announced to the room, reappearing in the doorway. “Put them on the heating… . Everything lined with the paper. Like you said.” Leaning on the doorframe, she used one foot to rub the ankle of her other leg. “Okay?”

Belle patted the spot next to her on the sofa. _Small smile and small movements. Everything so small, small, small_.

Ivy beamed, then spotted the bucket of water sitting on the floor. She bit down on her bottom lip. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about that now,” he said, his eyes not leaving Belle’s face. “Ivy,” He watched her eyelids flutter and her head loll to one side, coming to rest against Miss Lucas’ shoulder. Miss Lucas gently pried the cup from her fingers and placed it back on the tray without much of a sound, careful not to move too much or too quickly - so as not to disturb Belle. “I haven’t gotten around to changing your sheets yet. Could you go and do that for me real quick, please? There’s clean linen and bedding in the large bottom drawer.”

Ivy’s eyes flickered between him and her mother, her teeth leaving colorless dents in the pink of her lower lip.

“Ivy?” he prompted.

“Yeah…” She looked at Miss Lucas for reassurance, who, thankfully, had a warm smile ready and waiting for her. “Is she _okay_?”

“Just real tired, kid,” Miss Lucas said. She placed an arm around Belle to hug her to her side more snuggly. “We need to give her a minute.”

“ _Oh_ -kay.”

With Ivy gone to do as she had been told, silence fell in the small room. Tea and cleaning water turned tepid as more minutes ticked by, and they sat and waited, looked at Belle, sometimes at each other - briefly and without any words. He rubbed his leg.

“Alright, shortcake, here we go.”

When Ivy reemerged from the bedroom, Miss Lucas scooped Belle up into her arms like she were made from soft, downy afterfeathers rather than flesh and bone, and easily carried her the short distance to the freshly made, waiting bed. Ivy had even thought to crack open the window. His leg protesting, he hobbled over to close it, then steered the girl and himself out of the room to give the two women some privacy. As he closed the door, he heard Miss Lucas mumble. _Crazy woman_ , she was saying, and, _you deserve a good talking to, you know. Seriously, Belle. You’re lucky I’m not Granny_. Perhaps he had judged her too soon and too harshly.        

“Put her into bed, wrapped up tight and well covered up,” Miss Lucas told him a little while later, as he was preparing another tea. Reason told him to keep the weight off his bad leg and to sit _bloody_ down, but he was too restless to listen. “She’s burning up. I left the window open. Hopefully, the night air will do her some good.” Miss Lucas gave a small shudder, then quickly glanced over at Ivy, who sat curled up in his armchair like a tiny owl - big, watchful eyes and sharp ears.

“Kid, why don’t you go and keep your mama company?” Miss Lucas suggested. “She’s sleeping, but I bet a good story will make her feel better so much faster.”

Ivy lowered the book she was pretending to read - he hadn’t heard her turn a page for the past twenty minutes or so - and squinted at Miss Lucas in the dim light from the reading lamp. “I’m not five,” she said with dignity, untangling her limbs and getting to her feet. “You want me out of earshot. Just tell me, ‘kay?” Still wrapped in his crazy quilt, she shuffled to the bedroom and vanished inside, the door closing behind her with a gentle whisper.

Miss Lucas smirked. “Ah, well, that one.” She shook her head. Then her face darkened, features morphing into a serious expression worthy of her grandmother. “A word, Gold?”

He nodded, leaning back against the counter.

Even though the bedroom door was closed, Miss Lucas kept her voice down as she continued. “Listen, I know you don’t really care, but I’m going to tell you anyway-” His fingers drummed on the sticky edge. “It's a full moon here tonight, and I’m going hunting.”

Catching her meaning, he asked, “Does Belle know?” - though he already knew the answer. Even if Miss Lucas managed to channel her innate supernatural side enough to bring it out in the Land without Magic, Belle would never approve of such a dangerous endeavor. He could list at least ten things likely to go wrong - from the top of his head and within seconds - and most of them had grave, possibly deadly, consequences.

Miss Lucas pursed her lips.

“She doesn’t like it.”

“She doesn’t have to.”

“Do I need to tell you that it’s stupid and pointless; And that, if she finds you - or you her - she’s going to flay you alive and add a fashionable fur collar to her ridiculous coat?” There was no bite or malice to the question, and she didn’t take offense.

“Nope.”

“Then I won’t.”

She shrugged into her jacket. “Good.”

They looked at each other.

“Good luck,” he said, and meant it. It was a crazy idea, but just as brave as it was ludicrous. And twice as dangerous. “Do come back, Miss Lucas-” she quirked an eyebrow. “-They’d murder me if you didn’t.”

“Don’t worry, they’d kill me first.” She laughed and opened the door, but then turned back, hand on the knob, and added, “Keep them safe for me, Gold, will you?”

“Always.”

======

The moon was full and round in the night sky, throwing patches of light through the windows and onto the floors and carpets. The room was cold, with the window wide open to let in the chill wind of late fall, but he didn’t mind. He had settled into the only chair in the room, and although a far cry from comfortable, it would do just fine for the night. Outside, temperatures were dropping steadily, but hers still climbed, and he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her out of his sight for even a second.

Ivy had been reluctant to do just that, but worried for the girl’s own health, he had finally managed to talk her into setting up camp on the sofa. She too was fast asleep.

She was stripped down to her underwear and socks, but even under the light cotton blanket, Belle was radiating heat like a brick right out of the oven. While adjusting her pillows and blanket, he noticed that, despite the heat, she was shivering like a leaf. He checked her head - _hot_ \- and hands - _like ice_ \- and went to fetch her another drink and a pair of mittens. When he returned to find her lips turning purple, and she wouldn’t stop shivering - kept shivering so hard it made her cry - he threw decorum to the wind and lay down on the bed next to her, wrapping them both in his woolen duvet. He held and rocked her gently. He’d hold her for hours if he needed to. If he let the fever go and just let her body do what it was trying to do, hopefully the fever wouldn’t last too long.

He had sworn to himself to never lie to her again, but as her fever burned through her all night and she lay whimpering and moaning in his arms, there was nothing else he could do, so he told her, “You’re okay, we’re okay,” holding her close to comfort her as best he could. “Sweetheart, everything is going to be alright, I promise.” He looked right into her dull, tired eyes, so she knew he meant it. In truth, everything felt broken beyond repair, uncertain and chaotic; but right now easing her pain was the only thing that truly mattered.

He stroked her hair, so matted with sweat, it stuck to her face and neck, and she curled up against his chest, cold fingers searching for his warm hands.

======

For the next couple of days, she ate nothing but the most watery of soups, so diminished was her appetite. They would hear her coughing and wheezing from clear outside the house and everywhere inside it too. It was a barking cough that carried well through the thin walls and the still, cold air and heavy rain.

Ivy was bored of her mother being ill. All she wanted was for her to get up, for Ruby to return, and for them to go home, but all her mother _could_ do was sleep with the curtains drawn. Her father kept hurrying to and from the bedroom with cool cloths - he got them in from his supply out on the washing line now, so they were almost frozen stiff.

The fever went for days. It went up and down, with peaks and valleys, and it usually peaked late in the afternoon. Dad said that, until she had passed a late afternoon with no fever, Mom would not yet be on the true road to recovery.

Ivy sure hoped she wouldn’t get it. It sounded awfully painful on the throat.

At first, she had been worried, but her father had assured her that not every fever needed medical attention. He explained to her that bringing down a fever only prolonged the illness and weakened vitality for the next illness to come, saying, “No, I can’t bring down her fever more, because she’ll get sicker quicker - and next time it will be worse.”

He said, they were already doing _everything_ to keep Mom comfortable. Everything - besides the cloths - entailed: keeping the room at the right temperature and making sure fresh air was circulating, frequent changing of clothes, sheets and bedding, having Mom sip soup and fresh fruit juice diluted with water to keep her hydrated and her blood sugar levels in the normal range. Apparently, keeping them from dropping prevented convulsions that often resulted from high fevers, which, she had learned, were those that ranged between 104 and 105°F.

Her father also taught her that food would naturally drop a fever within about twenty minutes and that that drop would last for an hour or two. He told her it was fine to feed a sick person with a fever, if they were willing to eat, but never to force food and not to give too much. Just a few bites of scrambled egg or a few sips of homemade broth or soup would be enough to bring that fever down a bit. It would not make the fever go away, but would help manage it - hopefully - within the ideal 102 to 103°F range.

On the fourth day, she had made little paper hats for her father and herself, and painted a red cross on them, which had made him laugh and her feel better. Mom had laughed too - well, smiled and then coughed violently - but she would have laughed if she could have, Ivy was sure. She _did_ feel like a nurse, but that was alright. Helping her dad help Mom to get better gave her something to do. Since she wasn’t allowed out of the house and the house wasn’t big, she had gotten so bored that she had started reading up on viruses and bacteria, and on how the human immune system worked (and what would happen if it wouldn’t or couldn’t do its job), and found it all rather fascinating, if a little repulsive (image search had been a really bad idea).  

======

With Ivy’s help, they got there pretty fast. Belle had stopped shivering and regained some of her appetite. Her hands and feet were still really cold and her lips were pale, but with the exception of a slight fever and cough, everything else was almost back to normal, her coloring getting better by the second.

Belle was in bed, Ivy curled up on the sofa reading something on the computer, and he stood, waiting at the stove, impatiently stirring a pot of chicken noodle soup. He didn’t know much, but he knew this most common dish for a cold. His aunties had made it for him growing up, and even though Belle had been far worse than a simple runny nose, the extra warmth from the broth had been the right choice and just the thing she needed to get her strength back.

He poured a little of the soup into a thick bowl, plopped in a spoon and grabbed a napkin, then carefully carried the tray into the bedroom, announcing himself with a gentle knock on the door and making sure not to spill anything as he entered.

“Here you are,” he said. “Chicken noodle soup.”

“Thank you.” Belle said weakly, words punctuated by a little cough, and willing herself up, and he quickly set down the tray to help and prop up her pillow against the headboard, so she could sit up more comfortably. She still looked a little grey - pale and tired, but was more alert than she had been, and she enjoyed their company when she was awake. Things between them might have been awkward, he thought as he placed the tray across her lap and sat down at the end of the bed, but, for the moment, they weren’t. As if her illness had prompted a strange truce, which both of them had silently agreed not to break or discuss until she was fully recovered.

“How are you feeling?”

“Honestly?” She rasped, making him smile.

“Yes, _honestly_.”

She took a tentative taste. “This helps. Thank you, Rumple.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” he scolded playfully, putting a hand on her forehead to see if she still had a fever.

Belle blushed.


	16. Sixteen Candles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of mothers and daughters, parents and children, and glitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads-up: If you are squeamish, the flashback might not be for you.

She woke to the sound of rain tapping on her window and the smell of pancakes. With a grin, Emma swung her legs out of bed, pulled on her socks, and made her way downstairs. It was still early, and the house lay dark and quiet, except for a glimmer of light spilling out into the hall from the kitchen. The radio was playing softly.

“Morning!”

“There’s the birthday girl! Good morning,” Sarah wrapped her arms around her, and for once Emma didn't mind. “Pancakes, eggs, bacon?”

Emma grinned into her shoulder. “ _d) All of the above_ … please.”

“Coming right up. Did I wake you?”

“No, I was already up.” She stretched and slid into her usual seat at the table, noticing the chocolate muffin with extra frosting sitting on a napkin and saucer in front of her. Sarah had remembered, remembered these were her favorite. She had also stuck in a ridiculously large, glittery candle, which she now lit with a match.

“Make a wish, Emma.”

 _A wish_. No, she would not. Wishes were dangerous, wishes got you hurt.

The flame flickered. Sarah looked at her.

“Need to think of a good one,” she mumbled. “You only get one.”

Sarah smiled and turned back to her eggs and bacon. “Right. You do that. Toast?”

“Maple syrup,” Emma said automatically, “lots,” but her mind was elsewhere, and she desperately trying to drag it back by the collar. Slow-boiling anger bubbled and rose within her, filling her ears with smoke. She should know better than this by now. Then again, wasn't it normal to think of your mother on your _birthday_ ? Even when said _mother_ hadn't wanted you, had wanted you so little in fact, that she had tossed you aside like burger and fry wrappings thrown out of a moving car’s window. She’d been left by the road in the dark and cold, all by herself like some unwanted mutt. Left to disappear, to die, to vanish into non-existence. If only she knew _why_.

Emma blew out the candle.

Sarah ruffled her hair and switched out the muffin plate for a huge breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon and…   _brown_ toast. Emma grimaced.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Sarah laughed. “I know you guys would be perfectly happy with an existence based solely on white bread, but it’s my job to thwart that plan whenever possible.”

“That’s what an evil supervillain would say,” she picked up her fork and carefully ate around the toast slices. At least this evil was easy to avoid. Not like the mashed greens smuggled into dinner sometimes.

Sarah laughed. “All for the greater good.”

She was so engrossed in her mission, Emma barely paid attention to the doorbell when it rang and only looked up when Sarah left to answer the door, mumbling something about “... at this hour?!”

 _Emergency transfer_. Shipped off at the crack of dawn - before the neighbors can ask questions; still half asleep, in the back of the social worker’s car, riding god-knows-where and not really caring either, the safety belt warm and sticky with jam and chocolate - chocolate used to bribe the younger kids into sugary, tearless silence. _Come quietly, don’t make a fuss_. There are files and empty bottles in the footwell, crumbs on the seat, and fingerprints on the window. Traces of the many nameless, little ghosts whisked away in the dark in a metal coffin filled with cold cigarette smoke.

Had to be another kid and their black trash bag. Emma’s stomach clenched.

She hastily shoved scrambled egg in her mouth, not bothering to chew, and swallowed hard, her fork already laden with more, free hand tilting the plate for better access. She didn’t pause when she bit her cheek, nor when the bacon scraped the roof of her mouth, and ignored the sting and her watering eyes as she washed it all down with hot chocolate. Normally, she would have taken things slow, savored the sweet taste, the cream and the cinnamon, but now was not the time. The sweetness mingled with the salty and crunchy on her tongue and burned her throat painfully, but she didn’t care.

She could hear their voices in the hall. Sarah and a man’s.

 _Social worker_. Called it.

Cheeks bulging with pancake pulp, Emma’s eyes fell on her birthday muffin on the counter top. She pushed back from the table, yanked the candle out, and took a large bite, her hammering heart deaf to the lovely sound of the cracking frosting, the feel of the spongy, moist texture, and the rich chocolate taste exploding in her mouth. She swallowed. Took a deep breath. Set the plate down.

They were still talking.

Something was wrong. It took too long.

Upstairs, the bathroom door was slammed shut. The pack was awake.

Holding her breath, Emma tiptoed to the door and glanced around the doorframe. Out in the hall, Sarah’s hair shone so bright in the darkness it was almost like snow; her soft waves no longer liquid honey, but an icy stream flowing down her very tense back and reflecting eerily white under the door lamp's light. Emma felt her own shoulders tense in response. Something was _definitely_ wrong. She squinted out into the cool, blue morning, but the man wouldn’t come into focus, his features remaining one with the bluish-grey.  

“No, _you_ don’t understand,” he was saying, his voice a restrained shout compressed into chopped, clean-cut words with edges so sharp they cut right through her. “I’m here for _Emma_ and I’m not leaving without her.”

“Do you have a court order?”

The iron fist around her heart closed so fast and so mercilessly, she couldn’t breathe.

“You and I both know I don’t need one. She’s my _blood_.”

“Old ties hold no value here,” An angry gust of wind hurled in leaves through the open door, blowing them all the way to where Emma was standing hidden from view, and it had to be that which made her shudder quite so violently, a shaking hand pressed to her mouth to keep quiet, but deep down she knew it was the way Sarah’s voice had changed. She sounded nothing like herself.

“Step aside.” Louder now, closer.

Sarah’s outstretched arm blocking the way.

Muffled noises from upstairs.

Blood rushing in Emma’s ears.

“Never.”

He took a decisive step forward, as if to push all obstacles out of his way by force if he had to, and Emma took an instinctive step back.

Something clattered to the floor. Heads turned. She wanted to scream.

The man’s face, it was familiar; kind and open, his handsome features mocking his harshness and threatening demeanor; and his eyes were her eyes, as they locked.

“Emma!”

Emma felt herself fall through the breaking ice in Sarah’s voice as it shattered, the freezing water stopping her heart almost instantly.

  

_… David?!_

 

***

She woke to the sound of rain again, bolting upright in a cold sweat, not knowing a single answer to the million questions racing through her head and feeling sixteen and scared and alone all over again, lost in her adult mind and body.

 

======

 

“You shouldn’t have let her go!”

Ivy sat on the sofa, not taking in a word she was reading under the covers by phone-light. Her still scrawny legs dangled over the edge just like they might have done when she was little - had they lived here and owned the shabby thing then - but now her toes tapped the floorboards impatiently as she sat back and listened to her parents argue over the soft backdrop of her music.

“What would you have had me do? Put a _leash_ on her?!”

“Of course not!”

“Then _what_?!”

With her eyes closed, Ivy turned the volume up and let the sound flood her like a soft seaside breeze. The lyrics, they weren't always upbeat, but they soothed her just the same. If these people once had felt just like she was feeling now, then maybe she wasn't alone after all. With a yawn and pointed glare towards the door, she brought her knees up to her chest and balanced her book and phone on her thighs.

_They had stayed._

Even after Mom had gotten better, they still stayed at his house. No one talked to Ivy about it, of course not, it was just how things were now - she on the sofa, her parents in the bedroom - and she was to take it as it came, no questions asked. Nothing much happened while they waited for aunt Ruby to return, for news from home to come, for _something_ to die and _nothing_ to show up in its place.

 _Nothing_ \- except for the fighting. There was a lot of that now. Not during the day, when everyone was busy playing house for whoever’s sake, but at night. Then their fighting would shake the walls like the little trees from her favorite lullaby - and the trembling dreams that fell from their crowns left Ivy restless and wide awake at odd hours.

Most nights, she would lay wrapped in her blankets, falling asleep sometime between the first familiar rumbles of thunder coming from the bedroom and her mother’s shrill tones answering each boom and clap of her father’s low growls, electrifying the air. Their arguing broke right through the walls like a wrecking ball through glass, like a never ending _Neighbours_ rerun left on high volume in the next room. Mom would snap, Dad would begin laying into her, and then the screaming would start. Sometimes she cried, and sometimes he seethed, and Ivy would push her face into her pillow and wait for the storm to abate.

With the rain and the wind, she got all the details she never asked for - _who, what and where_ \- and sitting at the kitchen table the next morning was excruciating, them wearing McDonald's smiles and her not knowing where to put her eyes.

The only thing her parents _did_ agree on was that she was not to fall behind on her school work while away from home and school, so Ivy spent a lot of time shut away in the bedroom by herself, pretending to read and study, or she would carry her books into the  living room, reading and listening to her music, pretending her parents didn’t exist in the same time and space continuum as she did.

***

Ivy hadn't been seen since breakfast that day. _Monday, Tuesday_ ? She had to check the calendar on the fridge to be sure. Life in the cramped living space they now shared had improved slightly after Ivy had agreed to wear her headphones instead of shaking the house to its foundation with her _music_ , but when their daughter did emerge now, it was to scowl at the both of them over her books - as if their existence was an insult to her, and her life would be vastly improved if they'd just agree to leave her alone and never return. They probably deserved that.

Belle sighed.

They tried their best not to argue in front of Ivy, but argue they did. In private, in the dark, with the door and windows shut and the curtains drawn. When it was dark, so dark you couldn’t see past the end of your own nose, the ugliness came out to play, flying from their mouths as if of its own accord. After the first few nights, the grotesque nightly show had gone cold. Every word strained and over-pronounced, slicing rather than tumbling through the night. Their love hadn't gone, it had been distorted into a close mimic of hatred; and just as love endured, so did the wall of bitterness that separated them, growing more thorns every day.

She was thankful for his help, for him opening his home to them, but there was so much - _too much_ \- still left unspoken between them, and their current living situation had her feeling trapped and going stir-crazy - even if she had no one but herself to blame for that. Of all the things he had said to her since their arrival, why was it that the thing she had chosen to believe in and listen to had been his warning about Cruella and his concerns about how being apart would put everyone, but especially Ivy, at an unnecessary high risk? Perhaps she believed it, because it was true. Perhaps, she simply wanted it to be. Perhaps, it was easier to stay and believe that it was more than Ivy’s safety he cared for. Perhaps, it was better to remind herself that she owed it to Ruby not to do the stupid, reckless thing and come running after her, even though she wanted to.

If Ruby hadn’t left, she and Ivy wouldn’t have been stuck in the little house on the narrow street with only two rooms and a bathroom. If she hadn’t gotten sick, Ruby wouldn’t have left. If Ivy hadn’t run, she wouldn’t have gotten sick. If she hadn’t been such a lousy mother, Ivy wouldn’t have run off to New York to find her father. If Ivy hadn’t sought him out, she would have stayed in that quiet little town, in her father’s quiet little shop, doing the quiet little things until her dying breath and being absolutely miserable while she did them.

And yet, Belle wondered, as she watched her daughter withdraw further into her shell - so much like her father, who did the very same, preparing tea after tea after tea - could one  type of misery truly be preferable over the other, or were they all the same, stripped down to their very core?

“Tea?” He placed another helpless cup in front of her, and she wanted to take it and smash it against the nearest wall. Thankfully, her hands were busy chopping onion and garlic.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Warm chamomile with honey is a good sleep-aid.”

\---

_It was already baking hot in the room, and it would take a lot more than chamomile, honey, and a couple spices to calm her down. “Can I get a shot of whiskey with that?”_

_What. It was a legitimate question. And a failsafe concoction to have her drift off to deep, dreamless slumber in no time. They had figured that one out when she had first woken up here, screaming and shaking, terrified to her toes of what monsters her returned memories had brought with them. She bore the scars to know they were real, and could only sleep wrapped in his arms, and after a very hot drink made from chamomile, honey, turmeric, ginger and cinnamon, with a splash of what, he told her, was called ‘whiskey’ in this land._

_It made perfect sense, yet the Mother Superior was looking at her like she had lost her mind. Again. And perhaps she had._

_All she wanted to do was sleep._

_A little over eight months ago, she had told Ruby she’d have a baby girl._

_The girl had first come to her in her dreams, come the same night he no longer lay beside her in the cold and empty bed, and so it took her a while to realize that it wasn’t just her mind that was going through changes. Every night, she kept seeing her vividly, like she was already there with her, just hidden behind a thin veil, almost close enough to touch. And it were those dreams that kept her going, kept her upright, walking and talking, smiling and eating, when all she wanted to do was lock herself in his shop and prick her finger with something sharp and lethal. Eternal sleep in a burning room could not have felt any worse than her waking hours already did._

_If she were to condemn herself to such a fate, however, she would never get to see the little face from her dreams again, never get to touch the golden ringlets and feel their softness under her fingertips, Belle had been dead sure of that; and so she had chosen to tell Ruby about her little girl instead; what she saw in her, what features she might have (her eyes, his lips), what features she hoped she would have (his hazel eyes, her love for books), and as time went on and winter turned into spring and spring turned into summer, she began seeing the girl in her daydreams too, saw her in her papa’s eyes and her dear mother’s memory, and she knew her and loved her with all her heart, loved her more than she had ever loved anyone, more than she loved her own life._  
  
_That morning, she had been feeling particularly unwell, a strange tightness in her lower back and what felt like extreme gas pains, when Ruby hugged her and said, “We’ve waited months for the little pup, she can wait another day, Belle.” Another day to meet the child of her dreams seemed an awfully short time nonetheless and she wasn’t ready, but Ruby’s words became the mantra she’d sing to herself as she went about her day as best she could in the humid, heavy heat._

_The forecast had warned them about a huge storm rolling in off the sea and by late afternoon - like clockwork - it did, black clouds, heavy rain, and thunder so loud it shook the very ground they were standing on. The power went out as they sat and ate Granny’s lasagna (the only thing she had been able to stomach and keep down for weeks), and perhaps it was that which ultimately sent her into the final stages of fearful frenzy, and had her water break in the restroom; and it might have been that fear also that had turned her beautiful dream into a bizarre nightmare about to be born into the world._

_Thanking herself for having had the foresight to buy additional incontinence underwear, she had gotten changed in the back. Ruby was on fast forward, while she moved in slow motion, dawdled in the bathroom - it took her 15 minutes to pick out a clean shirt, while Ruby already had the hospital bag in the car - and then it took more of forever and a day to brush and carefully braid her hair. At some point they had caught each other’s eye in the diner, from one end of the spectrum to the other, and from her eyes’ silent plea for things to slow down, please, Ruby had asked, “Does that mean we still have time for coffee?”_

_They had and they did._

_“Wait,” Granny had said, serving their mugs with uncharacteristically unsteady hands, and hurried back to grab something from under the counter. “You need one more picture together before you are parents.”_  
  
_That’s what the first picture in the family album was: Ruby, a few coffees pre-heart-failure. Her with that sexy 40-week bloat and a shirt that was a hideous cross between summer dress and nightgown, with a horrible, cheery floral pattern._

_Breathing through another white-hot wave of gut-searing pain, Belle listened to the tense buzz in the room. Blue had told the other fairies - those who felt confident enough to stay and assist her - that she was a ‘magical first’ and ‘high risk’, and that her baby would be ‘unknown outcome’, because no Dark One had ever fathered a child before. No precedent, no protocol, no rules in the guide book. No one but the Blue Fairy would even consider delivering her daughter in the first place. What if she was dark, people asked (behind Belle’s back), what if she was dangerous? And the weather didn’t help ease anyone’s mind. The storm also rendered this world’s medical machinery absolutely useless - the beeping monitors and pointing needles quiet and blank - they were going in blind._

_She closed her eyes as Ruby squeezed her hand, and there she was again: her girl. Her little face cast milky as if by moonlight, a child rather than a baby with her slender limbs. From under the sage green cloak tumbled dark auburn curls and her hazel eyes grew wide, her face alight with glee and recognition._  
  
_Belle screamed._

_“The baby’s heart rate is slowing down,” Blue said. “How about a song, Belle?”_

_A --- what? She couldn’t do more than stare incredulously as the fairies began to hum softly._

_“There. Now-”_

_Belle wasn’t singing, she was yelling. She was yelling two- to four-syllable words. It wasn’t so much just pain - though she would remember all the pain, each minute long constraining contraction, remember thinking ‘why can’t the baby wait?!’, remember all the doubts she had had about labor and motherhood in general for many years to come - but lying on the table in semi-darkness, crying out for help from a higher power whom she no longer believed in, and who wouldn’t come to her aid, no matter how much she wished otherwise or how many times she screamed his name._

_She had Ruby next to her, supporting her head, the fairy choir standing a few feet away, Tink holding a magical light, and Blue and Nova watching over everything. It made her feel claustrophobic, with everyone so close, the air reverberating with their eery song, and the small room becoming even smaller._

_She instantly wanted out._

_With a nod from Blue, she got behind her contraction and pushed, stopping only to breathe. Two pushes later the pain became unbearable and she cried out in agony, wishing to take a break and have it go away for maybe an hour, but the baby’s head had just started crowning, and she knew from her books the real pain had only just begun._

_Outside, the sky was a bright orange-red, like vivid sunset, but the sun had been down for hours._

_They had her reach down and feel the baby’s head. It made the whole experience feel surreal. She was giving birth and was going to be a mother in a matter of minutes._

_Mother to a child without a father._

_Belle pushed a few more times and began to give up. She didn’t think she could take it a second longer and wanted to call it quits on herself and her baby. Although giving up was what she wanted to do, the urge to push was far stronger, and nature taking the wheel. She gave another half-assed push._

_Blue, having seen her capabilities in prior pushes, looked her in the eyes and, calmly but sternly, said, “Belle, YOU NEED TO PUSH and DO NOT STOP.”_

_That was when she realized the old fairy knew something she didn’t._

_Lightning struck across the murky skyline._

_With each new contraction, Belle took a huge breath in and pushed with all her strength down into her pelvis. It was totally silent in the room now – nobody was giving her orders, providing a running commentary or soundtrack – It was just stillness, pain, and deep, deep concentration._

_She felt the head emerge and reached between her legs instinctively, expecting a cry - a  pink, alert, crying baby girl. She wanted to hear her cry. Just one good cry was all she was looking for._

_They pulled her baby out and snipped the cord._

_“She wanted to wait to cut the cord,” Ruby said from the side of the bed, far far away._

_“We don’t have a choice right now.”_

_The baby was blue and weak, she failed their tests once, then twice._

_Belle watched, bewildered, as they lifted her arms and legs, turned her over, and her limbs fell flatly by her side. Nothing._

_She had been so eager to welcome her little one into this world. She had a nursery set up and baby clothes bought. She had waited, and sung, and read her stories. Now that she had awoken from her delusional dream, however, she felt in her gut that something was terribly wrong, expecting to have her worst fears confirmed and her world shattered once again._

_Dead. Dark. Dangerous._  
  
_They set her on her chest for a moment, then whisked her away again; wrapped in a fairy’s cloak, where she stayed for a few endless, unbearable moments more._

_Belle imagined every terrible outcome unfolding, unravelling her by the seams. Her baby was dead, certainly. If not dead, severely deformed and unable to survive outside the womb - or only for a few hours while suffering tremendously. If not that, then definitely dead._

_What would she do? Oh, what would she do?_

_She shot Ruby a panicked look and grabbed her hand tighter than she had all night._  
  
_Ruby had to be their voice. “Is the baby alright?”_  
  
_“Yes,” Blue said.“Can I get another pair of wings over here please.”_  
  
_This caused a panic in her Belle had never known. She was stuck on a bed across the room, unable to see her baby, to protect her, to help. She sat, looking into Ruby’s eyes, not knowing the fate of her beautiful baby girl, and it was eating her alive and bleeding her dry._

_Moments later, the tiny squeaks came and her ears and heart were filled with the joyous sound of her daughter’s first cry._

_At 1:12, on July 28th, she arrived. 7 pounds, 1 ounce._

_Ivy was placed on her chest. Belle felt a heart racing, but wasn’t sure if it was hers or her baby girl’s (both probably)._

_Her first moments of skin to skin contact. She was breathing beautifully on her own, making little, intermittent growling type noises, breathy and helpless, and her own heart swelled as her baby’s heart rate recovered. Wiggling and rooting around with her mouth, her blue eyes were wide open. Then she sneezed - the tiniest, most wonderful sound - and Belle laughed, letting the tears roll into her ears as she touched the inside of Ivy’s hand, and she immediately wrapped her perfect fingers around hers._

_She was so wildly in love._

_As she leaned down to kiss her soft head, and felt her beaming Godmother squeeze her hand, Belle whispered: “I’m so happy you are here. We love you. We will always protect you.”_

_She had never made a promise more confidently._

_Her fairy midwives and nurses were amazed. And so was she._  
  
\---

She still was. It hadn’t made an iota of sense to her at the time, but it had been Ivy who had found and loved her first, saved her from herself.

Once her placenta was delivered and Ivy contentedly nursing, they had told her she had been born compounded, had come out with her hand by her face, which had cut off her breathing. Once they stimulated her lungs, she had started breathing on her own.  
  
Ivy took to breastfeeding well, slept most of the time ( _her favourite spot was the nook between her armpit and chest_ ), and Ruby had been the most incredible friend and the world’s best Godmother as Belle recovered and nursed constantly. She changed pretty much the same number of nappies Belle did, organised Ivy’s meals, kept the apartment clean, the fridge stocked, and the nosy townsfolk informed, but well out of the loop and Belle and Ivy’s personal business. Granny had also been great. The day after Belle had given birth, she and Ruby had cleaned her little apartment above the library top to bottom, brought a bunch of her favorite foods, and filled every room with beautiful flowers. It had made the transition home so much easier.

Ivy sneezed, ear bud flying from her ear and dangling upside down. Belle bit back a laugh.

With a smile, she set down the knife, and carried her tea over to Ivy, who took it wordlessly, but with a large question mark on her beautiful face. Belle cupped her cheek and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, and her sleepy confusion gave way to an embarrassed grimace and an indignant huff of protest.

Oh, her darling, crotchety baby girl.

***

“We can’t keep doing this.” Rumple drew the single chair closer to the bed and slumped into it, face as tired as weathered stone.

Belle nodded. He was right. They could not keep going at each other like this, shouting themselves hoarse every time they were alone in the same room. It would come to nothing. Toeing off her heels, she sat down on the bed.

“Rumple?” She pulled her legs up and tucked her freezing feet under her body.

“Yes?” His voice was surprisingly gentle.

“I’m sorry,” she looked at him. “For… all of this. I just… .” Belle bit down on her bottom lip. She just _what_ ? She just didn’t know how to handle it all, that was what. She did not know how to feel _any_ of what she was feeling. She did not know how to be this close to him without either wanting to yell, sob, or kiss him until her skin was red raw and her lips bled.

“And I am sorry too, Belle. For everything,” he sighed. “It was _never_ my intention to hurt you. Please, you have to believe that - even if you don’t believe me.”

Belle gulped. She did. She believed him. She always had. Wasn’t that what had gotten them here? Her _believing_ ? Or perhaps it was quite the opposite. When had she stopped believing _in_ him? In herself? In them - together?

“It was I who wronged _you_ , Rumple. Not the other way around.” Belle hung her head. “Remember what you said to me in your vows? How- how you were _changed_ , how you were no longer the man you used to be?” She looked at him, emotion and exhaustion prickly in her eyes. “I was _so_ determined to hold you to that… I failed to realize when you needed my help. You _needed_ me, and I- I pushed you away… I should never forgive myself for that,” Her voice broke, the rest of her words tumbling out in a horrified, shame-ridden whisper. “And neither should you.”

“Belle,”He half rose from his chair to reach out for her.  “It was _my_ fault. I shut you out first.”

Belle’s eyes fluttered shut, as he cupped her cheek in his palm and stroked his thumb lightly along her cheekbone, and she suppressed a shudder in reaction to his calloused hands, so rough and warm on her cool skin. She covered his hand with her own. The sudden, wonderful warmth spreading through her body was more than welcome, but his touch also created a slow-rising sensual haze that was beginning to fog her brain. She needed to retain enough presence of mind to keep the conversation going. They really needed this. They needed to _talk_.

“Why did you lie to me?” She opened her eyes and lowered their joined hands. “After you... killed Zelena, why did you lie?” She could see that her words had caught him off guard. She had always known – or strongly suspected - that he had had a hand in the highly suspicious death of the late wicked witch. Surely, he knew that? “Will you be honest with me now? _Please_ , Rumple…”

His face was guarded as he opened his mouth; And thinking, speaking slowly, he said, “She… took _Bae_ , Belle.” She quickly placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “She took _my boy_ … and I just couldn’t --- could _not_ \--- even when I’d promised you… .” 

_Labored breathing, raw pain_. She watched the scabbed-over struggle burst open and play out on his face anew, and it shot right to her heart, rupturing them both. “I was _terrified_ I’d _lose_ you,” he admitted brokenly, gulping down air to keep going. “I couldn’t be who you wanted me to be _and_ do right by my boy. And, if you learned that I was nothing more than the _beast_ you had thought long gone, … I just kept lying and _hoping against hope_ I’d become what you _wanted_ \- somehow, along the way- but I just didn’t know… _how_.” 

They were clutching each other now, holding on so hard it hurt, her hands going numb in his. _Close, so close_. Heads and knees almost touching, breathing through the same pair of lungs, crying from the same eyes.

“I just wanted _you,_ ” Belle echoed quietly, a sob escaping her lips and throwing her voice and her world off kilter.

“No! You wanted me to be _better_ ! To be someone I am not!” The jagged edge to his voice made her flinch, and he drew back, withdrew his hands, his warmth, his presence, leaving her heart blistered and frostbitten. “But no matter how much you believe otherwise or how much I _wish_ it _were_ different, I am still the Dark One, Belle.”

She wanted to counter that he had been _good_ , that he had saved them all, sacrificed his _life_ ; That there was so much _good_ in him, much more than there could ever be darkness, and that he _had_ changed - could he not see that? But he wouldn’t let her.

“I wanted the _power_ ,” he said, a chilling calm wound tightly around the words to contain their fire, and Belle perked up, the buzzword bittering her tongue and darkening her thoughts, “because I _need_ it to cut the darkness away from me!” The hand on his chest opened and closed in anguish and desperate urgency. _Fingers pumping; One heartbeat, two heartbeats, three_. “Darkness that is a _danger_ to everyone I hold dear. Darkness that makes _me_ that danger.”

“But-“

“It kept me from being who I wanted to be. For Bae, for you… .” The hand on his heart stilled, as if to stop it from beating underneath. “Don’t you _see_ . I had to _try_ ... even if I was so _afraid_ -”

“... the dagger?” She couldn’t reach him. Everything was smudged. Blurring, swirling, running together and bleeding out, rushing away from her, right through her fingers. She half laughed, the sound lopsided in her throat and bile coming up after, like venom poisoning her from the inside.

How could she have failed to see? How could she have been so blind, so _selfish_ \- selfish enough to allow her own petty feelings to guide her actions and cloud her judgment?! He had never been a hard man to love – just a man who was too hard on himself. She had known from the start, from the moment she had felt drawn to him in the Dark Castle. She had always known. She loved him for trying, but her love was not tied to his ability to change - for her or anyone - not reserved for some elusive future version of him who would - someday - become worthy enough.

She _loved_ him, loved all of him, always had and always would. Even the broken pieces. The dark and the ugly. She had _known_ this to be true – known with all her heart - and then she had not.

“Of the control it grants the one who wields it, yes.”

The lies,  they could have moved past that? They could have made it work? Somehow? Searching for his face through her tears, Belle tried to recall the exact moment that she had given up on him. On them. Why had she given up? _Oh why_ ? “I’m… _s-so sorry_ , Rumple.” Her world had been turned upside down. The moment that up became down and left became right. She had been so _certain_ he didn’t love her, not _enough_ , and that he never _truly_ had. And oh, been so heart-broken for herself and the future that they would never get to share, that she had made sure of that herself.

Belle’s eyes widened and she reached out, blindly, trying to feel her way to him. “... and I used it against you! Twice!” She felt sick to her stomach, dread and disgust pooling in her belly. Icy panic had forced its way in, racing down her spine and throat. “I don’t know what _happened_ , Rumple,” she sobbed, as his hands finally found hers. “Nothing made sense! And then you were… _gone_.”

“I don’t blame you, Belle,” He gently pulled her to him, holding her against his chest, and wrapped her in his arms. “I could never blame you. _Shh_. It’s alright.” He cradled her, held her close like something fragile and unbelievably precious, the most precious thing in the world. His _entire_ world. _The thing he loved most_.

Belle let her tears fall, face buried in the nook of his neck, his smell and touch filling her to the brim - soft and warm and familiar - and his strong arms slowly carrying her…  _home_.

***

The screaming came in the middle of the night.

“Mooom!”

Weak, then louder.

 _Frantic, helpless, hurt_.

Belle was wide awake, out of bed, and by Ivy’s side, before the coughing fit shook her so hard, it made her throw up most of tonight’s dinner onto the patchwork throws and carpet. Ivy winced and began to cry, and Belle turned on the soft reading light, and wrapped her distraught child in her arms.

"It’s okay. You'll be okay, baby, _shh_ ,” she promised, rubbing Ivy’s back, and giving her scorching forehead a light kiss. Behind them, Rumple quietly closed the bedroom door and padded to the bathroom with a sigh.

Belle put her lips to Ivy’s forehead again. She could tell within half a degree what her temperature was using this method, no thermometer required ( _which Ivy found distressing to use when she was ill anyway_ ). Her father had taught her this trick - he never took her temperature. He knew her temperature.

 _If the child seems hot, you know she has a fever_ \- and Ivy was burning up.

Rumple brought them a bucket, washcloths, towels, and clean blankets, then went to prepare tea. _Cumin, coriander, and fennel_. Sweet and calming. He moved so quietly, and she didn’t have to tell him, ask for anything, because he knew exactly what they needed.

While he left the tea to draw, he got her a light robe from his clothes cupboard and fresh PJ's for Ivy.

“Rumple, the door –“ Ivy whimpered and she trailed off, but he understood. _The door, the open window, the draft from the bedroom_.

Their sweet girl, sobbed and moaned in her arms, her hot, damp back pressed against her chest, her aching body heaving as she coughed and retched, and her cheeks burning with the flush of fever. She would have cried all night, but there was not enough strength left in her for that. Her breath quivered in short, quick gasps every time she inhaled, her lungs having no choice but to painfully allow the stuffy air around them in; and even though they kept changing her tops and bottoms, Ivy wouldn’t stop shaking - not even in dry jammies, curled up in her mother's arms, and carefully wrapped in all the blankets. The heaving and puking was rough, and mostly they managed, but every time she got close to sleep, a new spell of violent shaking would force her back awake.

“No, no, no,” Ivy repeated to herself, feebly rubbing away at her arms in an attempt to - no doubt - cease the chills that continued to run down her spine and made both their skins crawl. “Momma!”

Her poor baby had cried so much, she'd lost her voice. Imagine how a frog would sound if it was up all night crying and spewing and you had Ivy.

“I’m covered in, covered in -” Ivy hiccuped.

"Blow," Belle held out a tissue to her and put it under her runny nose. She was covered in cold sweat again, her pyjamas soaked through once more, and she became increasingly worried by that. Rumple had already started the first load of laundry, but at the rate they were going, it wouldn’t come out of the dryer in time. After Ivy was finished blowing her nose, Belle dumped the wadded up tissue in the bucket, and searched her face. She stared back out of sad, glazed-over eyes, that melted Belle’s heart.

Ivy’s face crumpled. “The _glitter_ , Mom, I-”

 _What_? ---

Belle looked at her daughter’s face again, more closely this time, and did a double take. Her cheeks were red as apples, her complexion that of a ghost, and she _was_ flushed and sweaty, but underneath that oily sheen of sickness and warmth, there was something _else_ ; something gleaming like silver, like the moon reflecting in still water, something that hadn’t been there before, making Ivy’s skin appear just the tiniest bit…  _glittery_.


	17. Glitter and Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's with the glitter? - Some answers and some idiocy.

“Rumple?” Belle looked up to find he had backed away from the sofa, his expression unreadable. “Did you…?”

For a hot second, she meant to ask if he had anything to do with Ivy’s skin; if he had done anything… _magical_ to her, used some spell, or… _potion_ to help with her nausea and vomiting; if he had done anything, anything at all - in a well-meaning manner of course - that could, possibly, have backfired somehow and made their daughter pay the sparkly… _price_ , but Belle knew the question was silly and the answer had to be no. They were in the Land Without Magic. He couldn’t have done anything like it. And, judging by his reaction, Rumple was just as taken aback and confused by Ivy’s current state as she was.

Only, he didn’t look surprised anymore. His face was hard, angry; a mask made from narrowed eyes, curled lips and cold fury. 

“Rumple, what-”

“You lied to me.” He spoke through his teeth, almost snake-like, hissing his nonsensical accusation at her, and Belle had no time to process it, to feel offended by his tone, or to do anything but stare at him as he lunged forward, swiftly ran a finger along Ivy’s upper arm, and withdrew with another low hiss, looking down at his hand in disgust.

Ivy whimpered into the stunned silence.

“Rumple!”

He cocked his head, studied her, and Belle felt her pulse quicken.

“What _are_ you, dearie?” He asked in a low growl that she came to recognize, but hadn’t heard in a long time. Not since her early days in the Dark Castle, when she had been nothing but his maid, bound by a deal. But just like back then, his quirks and antics didn’t scare her. Irritate, confuse, intrigue, yes, but not scare her. She knew him too well; knew that he was the one frightened or unsettled by whatever was going on, and simply trying to deflect it.

Ivy, however, had no way of knowing any of it, and their daughter’s distressed little noises and the way she burrowed deeper into their embrace, made Belle want to fling a dirty towel at him - or the bucket.

“Shh,” she cooed, stroking Ivy’s heated cheek. “Lower your voice, Rumple.” She shot him a warning glare. “I don’t know what you’re talk-”

“This!”

His agitated hands made a mock-airy gesture that cupped Ivy’s curled up form, and Belle nearly flew off the handle and the sofa, but forced herself to remain calm and seated - for Ivy’s sake. As calm as she could make it, anyway.

“And what’s that supposed to mean now, hmm?”

Rumple’s jaw worked, his eyes swivelling back and forth between hers, trying to catch one of them lying. What was he insinuating? That Ivy wasn’t…  _his_? That she, Belle, had-

“Fairy!” He spat the word, flung it at them like a rock. “You-! She-!” 

He looked at her, wide-eyed and miserable, and her heart took an unexpected hit as he turned away and began to pace.

He looked so hurt, so deeply betrayed; his shoulders hunched and head bowed as he went, wringing his hands and muttering to himself that _it couldn’t be_ , that he _would have noticed_ , that he _should have known_ ; She must have _hoodwinked_ him somehow, _bewitched_ him, yes; but how could she have done it, a simple maid _trick_ the Dark One, put a spell on him without being found out?! A spell _so_ powerful - no, no, too powerful - she couldn’t have done it; But how had she managed to hide the truth from him for _so long_? _Camouflaged_ her true nature? What glamor-?

“Rumple. Stop!” Belle pleaded, her eyes and head swimming from his circles and the manic monologue. “I don’t understand. What are you saying? The fairies-? They… _did_ this? To Ivy? Rumple, please!”

He stopped, shook his head, held up a hand.

“Belle-” he breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut before he exhaled, letting out a long breath. When he looked at her again, his eyes were clear, but wary.

“What do you mean?”

“When… when she was born… the Mother Superior…”

He sucked his teeth.

“Sorry. I know you don’t like her, but she and the fairies… they were the only ones willing to help and…” she trailed off as he ran a hand over his face.

“The Old Fairy,” He forced the name past his teeth as if rubbing something disgusting and grimy on a washboard. “She… was there? She was there when-”

“Yes.” Belle nodded, pressing her lips together, and wrapped herself around a shivering Ivy like a protective cocoon. “Rumple, please. You’re scaring her.”

He blinked, blinked again, and then his face crumpled. He stared down at his hands, like he had done after losing his temper in the kitchen the first time she’d come into his home.

“I’m… sorry. Belle, please. I didn’t mean to-” He took a few wobbly steps and lowered himself into the armchair, where he put his face in his hands and breathed heavily.

Belle watched him, relaxed her arms and shoulders, and took a moment to breathe as well. Then she shifted a little and reached out to - almost - touch his arm.

He looked round at her anyway, and she smiled tentatively.

“So, you know what the… _rash_ is?” She asked quietly, and he gave a dejected nod.

“ _Fairy’s Bloom_.” He sighed and leaned forward on his knees to look at Ivy, who was peeking out from inside Belle’s arms. “Ivy, what day is your birthday?”

His voice was soft, gentle, apologetic, but Ivy hesitated. She cast her eyes up to look at Belle, who answered, “July 28th. 2015,” took a breath, and added: “A Tuesday.”

Rumple smiled a sad little smile and put a finger to his lips.

“So, as of today, … that’s 15 years, two months, and seven days.”

“Whoa,” Ivy breathed. “Freaky.”

Belle was used to his knack for numbers, to how little it took him to jump back and forth in time effortlessly in his mind. She assumed it came with his age, having lived for as long as he had, but coming to think of it, she had never asked Rumple about it.

“Ah.” Rumple said, reaching a silent conclusion to another thought. “That, ah, well…” He blushed without finishing, and Belle quirked a brow.

“That… that would be…” he stammered, avoiding her gaze and shifting in his seat.

“What is it? --- Rumple?”

“I’m not sure I should say…” He glanced at her. “In present company.”

Belle laughed, pretending to cover Ivy’s ears, but her daughter wriggled free almost immediately.

“Mom!” She coughed. “What are you two talking about?”

“You see… ah, you were _born_ on July 28th,” Rumple began, his eyes latching onto Belle’s with an unexpected heat that made her cheeks grow warm and something in her belly flutter, “but you’ve been… _there_ … since -” He paused - “before then.”

Belle’s face flushed when she realized where he was getting at, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his, or open her mouth to do anything about it.

“You… you know, sort of since your mother and I -”

“Dad!” Ivy’s hands flew to her ears. “Stop! Don’t! Oh God, please. I think I’m gonna be sick again...”

“And, if my calculations are correct, that means you, that is your… _essence_ , just turned 16.”

“Don't say it! Ew, ew, ew! Too much information!” Ivy squirmed. “Jeez, dad!”

Belle bit her lip to keep from laughing, her face hot and mind fuzzy as she glanced down at Ivy. She cleared her throat.

“Why the… _glitter_?”

“Magical blood will out at sixteen,” Rumple said, earnest. “And _that_ ,” His eyes swept over Ivy. “That is _fairy_ blood.”

She gawked at him, unsure of whether he was serious or not; whether he wasn’t imagining things; whether this wasn’t a fever dream and they were all stuck in it together, sickness and exhaustion getting the better of them. She closed her eyes, opened them again, squinted in the harsh morning light that slanted in through the blinds. A new morning, a new day.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Doesn’t it?”

 _No, it didn’t. He had lost his mind._ Belle narrowed her eyes.

“What are you saying?”

“Magic doesn’t lie. People do.”

She wanted to strangle him. And by the Gods, she would have if that hadn’t meant leaving her child fatherless - and having to leave the sofa. Her body was too heavy to move; too tired to hold all her emotions. They flooded her face and eyes, spilling out and over before she could rein them back in.

“Oh, so I’m lying then?! Is that it? You think I’m lying?”

“Well, _are_ you?”

There wasn’t enough air in the room. It was stuffy and growing smaller by the second, making Belle’s heart race and legs tingle. As soon as Ivy was feeling better, she would take her and get out of here, and leave him to spin his nonsense in peace.

“I don’t even know what I’d be lying about, Rumple!” she yelled, her eyes stinging and head throbbing. “All I know is that Ivy is _my_ child. And she _is_ yours. But if you’re so much more knowledgeable, how about you fill us in?”

Heavy, strained silence.

“I’m just stating the facts,” he said, voice rising like magma. “Magical blood. Fairy blood. It’s weak, but it’s there. She must have gotten that somewhere; _from_ someone - and that someone isn’t me.”

She watched him shudder.

“Oh, so it _must_ be me?!” You are ridicu-”

“Mom! Dad! Stop!” Ivy’s anger matched theirs. “You’re both crazy! I’m not a fairy!” She pushed Belle’s arms off and wrangled free from their embrace, struggling with the layers of blankets as she twisted her body to show them her back. “See?” She pointed over her shoulder. “No wings. There.”

She turned her head awkwardly to look at Belle and whispered, “Fairies have wings, right Mom?”

Belle chuckled tearfully. “Sorry, baby.” She rubbed Ivy’s back and buried her face in her neck, breathing in the familiar smell. “Your father has lost his mind.”

“I’m not wrong, Belle,” Rumple protested. “It’s in her makeup. Her… DNA. Which means it’s in yours.”

Belle threw up her arms.

“So now _I’m_ the fairy?! I’m a fairy too? Oh, I know. Maybe we’re _all_ fairies now? Who knows?” She scoffed. “Rumple, do you hear yourself?”

“You speak Fairy, don’t you?”

_What did that have to do with anything? She was losing her mind. He was making her lose it._

“I can read it, yes. A few dialects. My mum taught me. But-”

“Ah.” He looked smugly self-confident, and it drove her up the shabby wall.

“But I also speak Mountain Troll. That doesn’t _make_ me one, now does it?!”

Ivy shook her head, her tangled curls tickling the inside of Belle’s arms and making her smile involuntarily. “Pu-lease. That’s not hard. All you have to do is grunt and roar. Trolls are dull.”

“Ivy!”

“What?”

“Don’t say that.” She wasn’t laughing anymore. This wasn’t a laughing matter or an acceptable attitude. “Mountain trolls are a very kind and sensitive people.”

“You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover,” Rumple concurred. She shot him a pointed look.

_Oh? Really?_

“I know, I know.” He held up his hands. “But, Belle, are you _sure_ … are you _absolutely sure_ that you - or your mother - I mean, couldn’t it have been…?”

“My mother died when I was 12. You know that. Had she been a fairy…” Belle heaved a long, bitter sigh. “She might still be with us.”

“Perhaps she is.”

She shook her head. Wrapped her arms tighter around Ivy and herself.

“It’s true, fairies are immortal, but that doesn’t mean what you think it means; doesn’t mean what most people assume it does. Fairies can never truly die, but they don’t stay alive in a way that’s easily grasped or understood by… normal… non-magical folk either. They-”

“ _Air on the wind, Dust in the desert, A single drop of rain. I was here, I am here, and I will be here again_ ,” Belle recited, the words coming back to her of their own accord. An old fairy scroll, a poem she and Mother had translated when she was a little girl. Or had it been a song? It might have been a song.

Rumple nodded. “See?”

“No, I don’t.”

“It’s all about essence for them. It’s in every cell, in their bodies, the magic. Even in the glitter. As long as a part of that exists in the world-”

Ivy rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. “Is this the _Lion King_? One of you going to break into song now?! Newsflash:” She pointed at her own chest. “Not. A. Fairy. Okay? Got it? --- Good. Case closed.” She pushed Belle off again, staggered to her feet, swayed, and stomped off to the kitchenette, much of the effect lost on her unsteady, asymmetrical and insecure gait. “You two are mental.”

“Ivy, please.” Belle cautioned gently. “Baby, be careful.”

“I can make _tea_ , Mom. Jeez.” Ivy turned off the water and slammed the old kettle on the stove with a bang, made to turn on the gas, but then whirled around instead, holding out her bare left arm for them to see. “There. No more... rash or... glitter... or whatever. Can we stop with the crazy now? And the arguments? And the crazy, stupid arguments?!” She turned her back on them again, and hoisted herself up on the counter to reach the wall cupboard where her father kept the tea and the tea set.

Her skin _had_ stopped sparkling.

“Ivy! Get down there. Now!” Belle pushed to sitting, legs off the sofa and one hand resting on the edge, ready to push herself off and fly to the rescue at a moment’s notice. “You’re gonna fall. Watch your arm!”

Ivy shot a hot glare over her shoulder, and Belle bit her lip. Yes, they had set wonderful examples for their daughter, hadn’t they? She had set a wonderful example.

“Please, just be careful,” she said a little calmer. “You already have one arm in plaster.”

“Yes, listen to your mother, please.” Rumple agreed.

Ivy groaned. “Yes, Mooom. Yes, Daaad.” She hopped off the counter, scrambled to find her footing, but caught herself just in time. “Oh. My. God. Chill.”

“Watch your tone, young lady.” Rumple’s voice was stern.

Ivy whirled round, but had to grip the counter hard not to fall. “Why? _You_ aren’t?!”

Belle put a hand on Rumple’s arm. “And we are sorry, baby.” She patted the spot beside her on the sofa and smiled encouragingly. “Please, come, sit back down. And let’s talk… calmly and rationally… no yelling. I promise.”

“And I do too.” Rumple got to his feet and hobbled over to Ivy to wrap her in a slightly awkward hug - ever tried hugging a hedgehog? - then took the tea kettle from her and sent her on her way with a playful pat on the backside.

“Hey!” Ivy grumbled, but kept walking. “Okay, okay, fine,” she huffed, plonking back down beside Belle and folding her arms across her chest, looking daggers at them both. “But you two exhaust me!” As if to prove her point, she yawned heartily and clasped a hand over her mouth, her cheeks turning pink.

“I know.” Belle pulled her into her own hedgehog-hug, which Ivy let happen under protest, and planted a wet kiss on her cheek, laughing softly as her daughter scrambled away and ran a hand over the spot in exasperation. “We exhaust ourselves too.”

“MOTHER!” Ivy hollered. “Enough. Ugh.”

Grinning, Belle held up her hands.

As the rest of the night died outside, they wrapped themselves in the blankets again and snuggled up against the cushions, waiting in warm silence until Rumple was done with the tea and brought it over, setting it on the table.

“Two?” He asked her, and Belle nodded, taking the cup from him after he’d added the sugar.

“Why did it stop? The glitter?” She asked, feeling Ivy’s deep breathing reverberate in her body. They really had worn their poor baby out. She brushed at Ivy’s hair with her free hand, then took a tentative sip. _Valerian root, rose, and lavender_. “Where did it go?”

“It’s not permanent. Not in the Land Without Magic.”

“And, it’s what’s making her sick?”

“No,” he smirked. “That would be _your_ bug.”

“Oh, ha-ha.” She punched his arm lightly, careful not to spill her tea. “So, it’s all my fault either way?”

“Looks like it.”

Belle knitted her brow, set her cup down, and looked at the ceiling. “Do you really think… think my mother could have been a fairy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm with Ivy on this one. Morons. How about you?


End file.
